An Unkindled in Westoros
by Skrumpf
Summary: When Sir William of Astora, the Champion of Ash rekindles the First Flame with the help of the Fire Keeper, they relight the flame, but the power of their two souls send them to another universe, where Seven Kingdoms dance on the edge of all out war. Watch as William and the Fire Keeper try and outplay everyone in their own game of thrones...
1. Prologue

_A/N:_

 _Welcome to my very first full length story! This shall be a Dark Souls/Game of Thrones crossover and I will probably turn a few potential readers off when they realise that I have taken a few liberties with what counts as lore in the Dark Souls Universe._

 _With that said:_

 _Italics – Flashbacks_

 **Bold – Thoughts**

 _So, let the Champion of Ash go through his final moments in Lothric before he is taken to Westoros!_

Prologue

William was tired, he had spent his time fighting against monstrosities and beasts that he only dreamt he would never have to fight against again. The lands of Lothric had made him give up hope at times, hope that would always have been brightened by the always-successful attempts of the Fire Keeper at the Firelink Shrine.

When he awoke from death, and found that he could die and die without consequence, he knew he had become one of the Unkindled, unlucky men who died out with each linking of the First Flame, an event to signify the coming of a new age. He was not even fit to be Undead, he was meant to be dead, never to wake again.

Then he awoke, the lid of his stone coffin crumbling around him, allowing him to stand and watch as he awoke to the new world before him. The lands that converged all met at Lothric, and if the old gods had deemed it necessary to wake the Unkindled, then nobody had linked the flame.

So when he defeated the living Soul of Cinder, the guardian of the First Flame, he was relieved, but overcome with a fear of the unknown. _What will happen to me when I link the flame?_ He thought, his hands trembling as he sheathed his longsword, shouldered the bottomless bag that the friendly Fire Keeper had given him before he set off on his journey to find the four Lords of Cinder who had shirked their duty as kindling for the First Flame. He could remember when he first knelt before the Fire Keeper, the regal, yet friendly lady who had became his closest companion in his journey.

" _My fair lady, my name is William, a knight of the Holy Lands of Astora, pray tell, I am only Unkindled, why have I been awoken from my sleep?"_

" _Good knight, do you remember the old words?" She responded, a small smile on her face._

" _The fire fades..."_

" _The words of prophecy have rang true, and no champion arose when the Bell of Awakening tolled. If the Undead shall not rise, then the Unkindled shall take their place."  
_

" _Then where are the rest of them? Have they gone? Where are all the other Fire Keepers?"_

" _You are the only one to have arisen. Your soul is true, and dominant. My honourable knight, the give five thrones are empty, save one. The four Lords of Cinder have forgotten their duty as Flame-bearers, and you, as my honourable Champion of Ash, shall bring them to their thrones, and if they shall not come willingly, let them return as cinders." The Keeper replied, growling the last few words._

" _My Keeper, you want me to… Kill the Lords?"_

" _Should they return willingly, not at all. But if not, then they leave no choice."_

 _The Fire Keeper, in all meaning of the words, was beautiful, but it was a special kind, one that was real but not meant to be tarnished by men or gods, a beauty that transcended reality. The pale skin, silver hair and regal style of dress made her a considerable presence in the room. She was quiet and peaceful, usually sitting on the decrepit stairs that led to the four thrones, or she knelt by the bonfire in the middle of the shrine, praying in silence._

" _My Keeper, I have only my armour and my blade, how am I to carry what I find on my journey?"_

" _Take this, a gift from the keepers, it is reserved for the Undead, but I doubt it matters if they have not awoken." The Keeper handed over a ragged looking sack, and stared at William with another smile._

" _My lady, this cannot do. It would break if I placed pebbles in it."  
_

" _My loyal champion, this is a bottomless bag, given to champions of ages past. It has stored their treasures and stores for generations, and now I give it to my Champion of Ash. Try it, my honourable knight."_

 _William unsheathed his dirt-covered longsword, and placed it into the bag. Surprisingly, the sword fit into the bag perfectly, leaving Will with a wide eyed glare at the bag. "How do I get my sword out of the bag?" he asked._

" _You need merely think of the object that you require, place your hand in the bag, and out will come the object you desire."_

His bag was heavy, and the cold iron armour that William had worn had degraded much since he had risen from the grave, his knee-pads were barely held to his by some rope, the helmet and its visor was dented badly, and some of the plating on the chest had fallen off, leaving William to replace them with some poor chain mail and tattered cloth. Some of the things he had gathered were things that mothers and fathers told their children before they went to bed. The wolf-like armour and sword of Artorias of the Abyss, the lightning staff and Lion-like armour of Dragonslayer Ornstein.

 **It is time…** Will thought.

Will stood up, his battered, bloody and bruised body carrying the tattered and heavily damaged set of armour, and placed his hands around the coiled sword that was stuck in the bonfire. He could feel his hands warm up, but they were not burning. The First Flame began to crawl up his hands, then up his arms and he could slowly feel himself become whole once more due to the First Flame.

Will turned, and the Fire Keeper stood next to him, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"Oh, honourable Champion of Ash, you have chosen to link the fire have you not?"

"My Keeper, I shall keep my promise as a Champion, your Champion, and I have indeed linked the fire."

Then the Fire Keeper's smile turned to a frown, and the smile was now full of sorrow.

"My Keeper, what is wrong? All shall be as it was, a new dawn for a new generation!"

"Ah, but it is not my duty to lead the next Champion. The First Flame needs a host to start the next Age of Fire, and it has always been the Fire Keeper to do so. It is my duty as a Fire Keeper to become one with the First Flame."

"But, that would kill you!"

"Dear William, your journey will mean nothing If I don't absorb the flame. Please, my honourable Champion of Ash, hand me the flame."

"No, if you are to sacrifice yourself, then you shall not do it alone. Allow me to help you in this, please, My Keeper."

The Keeper gave a small smile, it was small but it was there. The warmth had encompassed all of William's body, and he was burning away from the First Flame's power. Will held out his hand, covered in cloth, chain-mail and iron plate. Instead of the cold and blood-coated steel she had thought she would hold, she could feel the First Flame's warmth, as if she held William's own hand in hers. She could feel the flame crawl up her arm, over her black and gold robes and cloaks.

"My honourable knight, I thank you for your kindness." She spoke with a smile.

"My Keeper, my name is William, and I believe we shouldn't rely on formalities any longer now. My Keeper, what is your name?" Will replied, as he took of the dented iron helm.

To call Will handsome was an understatement. He was young, but he was not a child, with a noticeable beard and a mane of shaggy black hair he would have been in luck if he were not Unkindled. A problem with both the Unkindled and the Undead was that they could never remember their former life, and if they could, it would be a small part at most. All William could remember was his identity and his homeland of Astora, now a ruined wasteland of sand and fallen stone.

"Annalise, my name is Annalise."

Annalise was given to the Fire Keepers at a young age, and was brought up by them ever since. Becoming a Fire Keeper was all she knew, and at one point or another, she would have to become a follower of a Champion, someone who would rekindle the First Flame.

Both Will and Annalise could feel the flame overcome them, and despite them both being powerful beings, the flame eventually covered them both. Will had took a knee, and was beginning to feel the effects of the First Flame's power, as it began to melt away the dirtied armour and cloth, replacing it with a new set, one that looked similar to how he looked when Will first met Annalise. Whilst Will was knelt down, admiring the flame has crawled along his body, Annalise had allowed herself to relax, as she felt the flame travel up her arms and legs, body and head. It was a wonderful feeling, and one she would never be able to feel again. As the flames travelled along her, crawling along the master-crafted black gown and hoods she wore, she began to remember the Firelink Shrine, a place that she could only call home.

The Shrine stood on a tall cliff, and surrounding it was the glorious mountain ranges of Lothric, and below Lothric Castle stood Irithyll of the Boreal Valley. Whilst Lothric had beautiful weather, and the occasional rainfall, Irithyll had the harsher weather, with snow falling almost non-stop all year round. The buildings that she could see from the Shrine were very much dark and fearful looking in nature, beasts made of stone carved into alcoves and roofs on every building, and the Irithyll Knights patrolling the streets always made it seem like the city of Irithyll was in a rather unfortunate situation.

It wasn't Irithyll or Lothric Castle that she would always remember, it would be the Shrine. Guarded by Iudex Gundyr, the Belated Champion who awoke too late, to a Shrine without a Keeper and a bell that would not toll. The towering champion in a suit of armour resembling a former king knelt before the shrine, his halberd in one hand, and the coiled sword planted in his chest. If another champion was to come forth, they would have to prove they could duel Iudex Gundyr. His tale was a sad one, and at one point she could remember shedding tears at the poor man's fate, but she remembered that Fire Keepers didn't cry like children, they were to attend their champion.

The Shrine was gloomy then, when Sir William had came, with a blacksmith plying his trade and a merchant hag selling her goods, Annalise had felt that the Shrine had been misused. A man named Hawkhood the Deserter sat on the steps near the five Thrones of Cinder, crestfallen, weaving his tale of how he abandoned his brothers when he was needed the most.

When William had arrived, only one Lord of Cinder had arrived willingly. His title was Ludleth the Exiled, but he went by Ludleth of Courland. A small man, he sat on his small throne, smiling as he awaited his fate. He wasn't like the others, powerful, magical, special. He merely adopted the role as kindling to the flame, and he would do his duty once more. As Will came back to the Shrine, with rare treasures from his adventures, he would occasionally bring back people too. One time he brought back a Siegward of Catarina, a knight of Catarina, who would always mumble to himself as he sat in his onion-shaped armour. Another he brought back two sorcerers, Orbeck of Vinheim and Cornyx of the Great Swamp, the two men wearing their fine robes and sorcerers staffs as they began to write down scrolls upon scrolls of information about the Shrine. He finally brought three people back with him before he went off to relight the flame, Anri of Astora, Holy Knight Hodrick, and a traveller from a far-off land named Benhart of Jugo. Anri and Hodrick were kind, both dedicated to helping William relight the flame, whilst Benhart was quiet and he kept to himself, cleaning his blade or retelling stories of his homeland of Jugo. When they realised that sending William to relight the first flame would kill everyone except him and Annalise, they knelt before the remains of the Lords of Cinder, and with their final words had said the words that had brought them closer than any of them had ever thought.

" _We very few, we very few, we very happy few."_

As their bodies fell to the ground, she couldn't help but watch as William knelt to floor before the thrones, and let out a cry of sorrow and anguish. Will had failed to realise that as a Fire Keeper, Annalise could hold the souls that held no sovereignty of themselves, and when the band of misfits had passed along with the Lords of Cinder, she could feel the powerful essence of the souls enter her own, and she could feel the close feelings that the knights, mercenaries, and sorcerers held for William, and she could voice their words for them when they could not.

Annalise was brought out of her sorrowful memories when she looked at Will, as the First Flame began to die out, and the world around them began to fade into darkness.

"Annalise, w-w-what is happening to us?" 

"The world is starting anew, my William. We shall not know what awaits us in the next life."

Little did they know, they wouldn't return to Lothric, but to a land of conflict and violence, where kings would fall and kingdoms would crumble. They would instead to a land of Seven Kingdoms, a land called Westoros.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Winterfell

When Will awoke, he had soon realised he was alone. Annalise had gone, and he was no longer at the Kiln of The First Flame. Gone was the dusty pathway leading to the arena where he fought the flame's guardian, gone was the black hole in the sky that was the sun, and gone were the swords and spears lodged in the ground, markers of how many had fallen.

 **No, I can't have, I shouldn't be alive...**

William soon pulled himself up from where he was lying, and he realised he was in a sort of crypt. Statues were standing on his left and right, as far as he could see. Each statue had a lit brazier in front of it, and the statues themselves were made of stone, each one perfectly carved into a man, with long hair, a large beard, a sword on his lap and a wolf by his side, sitting on what looked like a throne.

 **I don't think I am in Lothric any more…**

Ever since Will had arisen from his grave, he could tell Lothric was a land of magic, mysteries and bloodthirsty beasts that would have torn him to little pieces. If he couldn't see it himself, he could feel it in the wind or in the air. Wherever he was then, he couldn't feel anything, no beasts, no corrupted knights, no horrifying monstrosity that was bearing down on him. It was a nice change of pace.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Will asked, with nothing but an echo in return.

 **Aye, good job Will, alert people to your presence, that won't get you killed…**

"Annalise, are you there? Annalise?" Will called out, but it was to no avail.

Will could feel himself, and by extension, the various souls he held in his being, shudder at the lack of magic wherever he was. He had never been to a place so devoid of wonderment. Despite the amount of amazing creatures like the wyverns and dragons in Lothric and their apparent hatred of all things fleshy and human, Will couldn't help but admire them, as they flew through the skies.

Suddenly, the grinding of steel warned Will to somebody's presence, and he too unsheathed his longsword, still coated in dirt, muck and dried blood of his enemies. He was fighting in a crypt, in a land he didn't know, and his best friend had left him. Will was not in the best of situations.

"Whomever has unsheathed their blade, come out, I mean no harm!" Will yelled.

 **Please, be nice to me for once in my life…**

A large, broad -shouldered man stepped forward, a massive great-sword held in his hands. He bore an amazing resemblance to the statues that surrounded them, and Will was quick enough to determine that he was most likely a descendant of those entombed in the crypt.

"Ser, what is your name and what are you doing in my crypt?" The man said. He wore a massive fur cloak, that was dragging across the floor as he marched towards William. The large stubble and long greying hair gave the man a wiser look to him.

"My name is William. Ser William of the Holy Lands of Astora. May I ask who I am speaking to?"

"Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Where you are now is the Stark family crypt, and I would like to know how you managed to get in here. Now."

Lord Stark was kind enough to place his sword back in its sheath, and waited until Will did the same. He was an older man, looking like he was in his late fifth or early sixth decade. The wrinkles on his forehead shown years of hard work and stress, and for once, Will was happy he was a knight and not a lord.

"Truth be told, I have no idea how I came to be here. A time ago I was with my friend, Annalise, in the Kiln, and now I am here." Will replied, telling the truth.

"The Kiln? Annalise? Ser William, you will have to explain this to me properly."

"My apologies, have you heard of a land called Lothric, Lord Stark?"

"I heard a tale or two during the Greyjoy Rebellion, an old tale, where a castle stands high above everything below it, mountains and all. Ser, it is only a tall tale."

"I can tell you know Lord Stark, it is no tall tale. Lothric is all too real, and it would be too soon if I were to ever return."

The look on Lord Stark's face was one of interest, and the fact that Will had just told an old and wiser lord that he came from a place that may not exist might have lowered his respect for Will.

"You said you had a friend, Anna-what?" Lord Stark asked.

"Annalise, a very close friend of mine."

"What did she look like?"

"Ummmm, pale skin, silvery hair, flowing black robes and capes. Oh, and she wears a blindfold over her eyes, but I don't know why she does it."

 **Please say you have seen her, we need to go home…**

"I am deeply sorry, Ser William, but I have not seen a woman like you have said, and I would have remembered seeing her if she was dressed like that."

 **Well, I guess I was hoping against hope asking that…**

"Lord Stark, I am not from these lands and I have little clue where to go. I shall leave Winterfell as soon as humanly possible, I wouldn't want to impose on your land any longer..."

"Nonsense, Ser Will. You shall become a guest of House Stark for as long as needed. You shall be given a bed, food and drink as any man would. I suppose it would be a start if you met the rest of my family."

After leaving the crypt, Will had made it clear to Lord Stark that being human in Lothric was not common, and that he was Unkindled. Lord Stark had gazed at him for a while, before asking him what it actually meant to be unkindled.

" _Ser Will, what do you mean by Unkindled?"_

" _I mean that because I was killed during the First Flame's first linking, I was turned to ash. When the Bell of Awakening tolls, the Undead, or in my case, the Unkindled rise from their graves to link the flame once more." Will responded, as he placed the bottomless bag on the floor of his new room._

" _But if you were dead, how are you here now?"_

" _I am here because I was the one to link the flame most recently. I shared the flame with Annalise, and somehow we landed here in..." Will had trailed off, not knowing in general where he was._

" _The Seven Kingdoms of Westoros." Lord Stark reminded him._

" _The Seven Kingdoms. The Unkindled and Undead bear the darksign, which is our way of clinging to life when we should be dead and resting. Eventually, if we die enough times and lose our minds, we go what is called Hollowing, where we lose all our wits and attack anything in sight. Those who are lost are called the Hollows, and we do what we can to put them to rest. I have died many a time, Lord Stark, but the will to find a cure for myself is too strong for me to hollow."_

" _Will, what do you mean by the will?"_

" _Hollowing can be staved off for a time. We either use the embers to restore some humanity, or by being fixated on something that keeps us occupied so much that the hollowing process stops. I knew a blacksmith, Andre, who was like me, but he managed to create a forge at our home, and it kept him from hollowing, and the rest of us happy our weapons didn't fall apart."_

The rest of the time Will was in his room, he was asking Lord Stark, who he was quickly told to call 'Ned' about Westoros. Ned had told him of the Targaryen Dynasty, of how they crumbled under his friend and king, Robert Baratheon, and the most recent rebellion, the Greyjoy Rebellion, who were crushed by the might of five of the seven kingdoms. Ned also told him of the harsh winters, the beautiful summers and springs, and how the summer could last decades but the winter even longer.

After finally being relieved of his armour, Will finally took the opportunity to sit down. Lord Stark looked at him oddly, before being told that sitting down almost never happened in Lothric unless he was at the Firelink Shrine.

"Ned, if you are a lord, and this area is truly civilised then I would like to do something that I haven't done in a while."

"And what would that be, Ser Will?"

"Have a bath, Lord Stark."

It had been ages since Will had heard a proper laugh, not the dry laughs of Hawkwood, or the pompous yet hopeful guffaws of Siegward. He sorely missed his companions, the dour Hawkwood, the hopeful Siegward of Catarina, the normality of Anri, a shield-maiden of Astora, and the strictness of Sirris. He held their souls inside of himself, when he had left for the Kiln, from time to time, he could feel their souls inside his own, and he could hear their echoes within him.

 **This might not be all bad…**

Later in the evening, shortly after dinner, Lord Stark had called William from his room to the main hall. Decorated in wolf like statues and banners of howling wolves, Will knew that the house's sigil was the wolf. As he looked in front of him, he saw Lord Stark sat in the middle of the table, and his family on his right and left. The oldest on his left was his wife, and their daughters, one had fiery red hair and pale skin and was trying to conduct herself in a lady-like manner like her mother, the other younger girl was not lady-like at all, with her rugged brown hair and dirty clothes, scoffing down some of the leftovers on her plate.

The boys were completely different, the three oldest were bickering about one of their supposed 'conquests' the night before, and the two youngest were still eating.

 **Must be Lord Stark's family…**

"Sir William of Astora, I introduce to you my wife, Lady Catelyn Stark, and my daughters, Lady Sansa and Lady Arya. To my right are my sons, Robb, Brandon and Rickon. Sitting with them are my ward, Theon Greyjoy, and Jon Snow."

"It is an honour to meet you all."

William was soon bombarded by questions, most of them from the younger children. Arya had asked if he could train her, only for her request to be smacked down by her mother. After her, Bran had asked if he was a true and proper knight, to which Will responded that he was, and Rickon had asked him if he knew any stories from 'Atsora'.

"Rickon, he isn't from Atsora, he is from Astora." Bran corrected him.

"That's what I said!"

"No, you didn't, you said Atsora."

"I did not!"

The bickering between the two youngest was getting louder and louder, and going nowhere. Soon enough, Lord Stark had enough and ordered Jon Snow to take them to bed.

"I am sorry, Sir Will, my children get excitable before they go to bed."

"No apology needed, my lord."

It was soon after that Lady Catelyn began to speak. "You say you hail from Astora, yet I have never heard of such a place, and neither has Ned or Maester Luwin, so where is it?"

"A place far from here, and a lot different too. My lady, you must understand, I have not been to my homeland in a long time, and I was buried for most of that time, I cannot keep up on world events when I am dead."

"Dead, you say?" Lady Catelyn asked, a suspicious look in her eye.

"I use the term loosely."

"How can you be dead if you are here right now?" Lady Sansa asked.

"Where I am from, magic is commonplace and it keeps where I am from alive. At the start of a new age, men and women like me are reborn from ash and cinder, and are brought back with a duty."

"It sounds just like a fairy tale! What is it like, where you are from? What is Astora like? Where else is there?"

"Sansa, give the man some time to think about what you are saying." Lord Stark interrupted, silencing his eldest daughter.

It took William a while to even try and remember anything about Astora, let alone anywhere else or what they looked like. He could remember Astora before the scourge, before the foul beast known as Aldrich, the Devourer of Gods, ravaged the land, devouring men, women and children. Will remembered perfectly well of when he travelled to Irithyll and the abandoned castle of Anor Londo, and fighting alongside Anri. Before Aldrich, Astora was replete with royal blood, and he could soon remember what happened to his once revered homeland, now a ruin of itself.

 _Let's take Aldrich, for one.  
A right and proper cleric, only, he developed a habit of devouring men.  
He ate so many that he bloated like a drowned pig, then softened into sludge,  
so they stuck him in the Cathedral of the Deep.  
And they made him a Lord of Cinder. Not for virtue, but for his might._

Aldrich made his skin crawl, and even thinking about what he saw in Anor Londo would never leave him. He walked into the main hall of the old and archaic castle, the castle built by the gods, and his first steps were in a black and sticky substance, which Will and Anri soon realised was Aldrich himself. Though he wasn't in his sludge-like form, he had taken upon a new one. The form that gave him the moniker of 'Devourer of Gods'. One of the old kings' sons, Gwyndolin, had been swallowed by Aldrich, and was used as a puppet for Aldrich's purpose, to eat Anri and Will.

"You would like it there, Lady Sansa. The castles are massive, towering over all of the land surrounding them, and you would fit in with the lords and ladies. The men of Astora all wear a blue cloak with a roaring lion on it, our flag of Astora. Sometime we even wear them into battle. You really would enjoy it."

"It sounds like a bloody fairy tale, just like it always does when someone says they have came from 'Lothric' or wherever you bloody well came from." Said the lean youth on the further end of the table.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Who are you to call me boy? You look just as young as I!"

"Have you ever died only to realise that you rise up over and over again? Have you ever tried to even comprehend what I have had to go through when I was in Lothric? Have you ever had to kill someone who you knew because they had lost their mind?"

"Then I shall call you whatever your name is, or boy, which would you prefer?"

"Theon. Theon Greyjoy."

"Well then, Theon Greyjoy. Tell me when you aren't a green little boy and then we say who has had it worse in life."

After a while of back and forth discussion, mainly of what Lothric was, and what had happened to William before he had landed in Westoros. The topics ranged from family, to other places beside Lothric or Astora. Lady Sansa had begun to regale in the tales of Florian and Jonquil, and Aemon the Dragon Knight, who defended his sister Naerys from the grubby clutches of his elder brother Aegon the Unworthy. It was a proper fairy tale, one that had been told to the young lady since she was a little child.

When everyone had soon gone to bed, Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn had summoned William to the Lord's Chamber for a reason unknown to him. "Lord and Lady Stark, you called for me." William said to the couple, wandering around in their bedclothes, yet both looking rather unkempt and bedraggled.

"Sir William, you will excuse me if I am not so courteous in the way I speak to you whilst my children are not here," began Lady Catelyn. "I have never met you before, you claim to come from a land I have not heard of, and you seem to think we believe everything you say. The younger children might, but I do not."

"Lady Stark, I do not wish to anger you. Everything I have said is true. I come from Lothric, and my friend is missing, and I need to find her."

"Sir Will, do you have any proof of this, that you are as you say, Unkindled?"

"There is a ring I wear under my left gauntlet, the Ring of the Dead, it is meant to conceal my facial… abnormalities. I could take it off, but I doubt that you will like what you see."

"Go on then, take off the ring."

William took of the steel gauntlet, rolled up the sleeve of his shirt under the armour and took off the silver band, the four yellow gems embedded in it glowing and shining in the fireplace's light. "By the seven, your eyes… and your skin! What had you done to get such a curse?" Catelyn asked.

"I did nothing, I am an unkindled, so I am born from the ashes of Undead who failed to rekindle the fire. I hadn't had the curse until the flame died, then I awoke in the Cemetery of Ash with the dark sign on my neck and sword in my hand."

Will did not need to see himself inside of a looking glass to know that he looked dead on the outside. The unkempt black hair had fallen out, with only a few strands left, the sea blue eyes had turned ice white and held a blank stare within them, and the semi-pale skin had turned into a mottled and sickly green. As soon as both the Lord and Lady Stark had recoiled in surprise, the ring had gone back on and the gauntlet was soon covering William's hand.

"Do you have any more surprises, William of Astora?"

"There is not a man alive who can beat me in single combat, and it is not skill that is needed to bring me down, but numbers. I am stronger than any man you know." Said William, with pride.

"If that is the case then, why are you here, and what do you seek?" Asked Lady Catelyn.

William faltered, only for a moment, but he faltered none the less. It was a question he had asked since he had arisen. He knew he needed to rekindle the flame since Annalise had told him he was a Champion of Ash, and that he was destined to link the First Flame, but he was not in Lothric then, there were no Lords of Cinder to slay and no First Flame to rekindle.

"I do not know, my lady. I wish to find my friend but the chances of finding her are slim in a world I do not know. I suppose I would serve your house, if you would take me. Lord Eddard has shown me a great kindness that no other man has shown me where I am from, and offered comfort nobody has offered me in years. I cannot serve a king I do not know, and I wish not to wander the roads looking to fight bandits like a common mercenary, but I think I could serve you, for a time at least."

If Will could have described Lord Eddard Stark's face at that moment, it would have been filled with gratitude. "Well said, William of Astora." He remarked.

"So, should I call Winterfell home, or should I find another settlement?"

"I think we might have a spare room for you. If anyone asks, you are Sansa's sworn shield from Astora, people don't know how far the world goes, so I wouldn't be surprised if people just take you at your word." Said Lord Stark.

"Of course, my lord. May I take my leave?"

"You may, Sir William. I shall see you on the morrow."

"Thank you, my lord." Will then took his leave, and promptly went to bed, to contemplate the fact that he may have a small chance of making his way in the Seven Kingdoms of Westoros.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Dragon's Keeper

When Annalise had taken William's hand, she knew that she would have been the first Fire Keeper that had shared her duty. She, as a Fire Keeper, should have became cinder on her own, yet the selfless Sir William had taken her hand, told her that he would share his duty as knight with her and cradled the fire, embraced her and stood there with her as the fire crawled over them both, licking at the cold iron armour and the warm black cloth of the knight and the keeper respectively.

Then when she awoke in the palace of Illyrio Mopatis, a 'cheese dealer' as she had soon heard, and a wealthy cheese dealer at that. Chatter from other guests around the manse had soon revealed to her that Illyrio Mopatis was not just a cheese dealer, but a dealer in dragon-bone, expensive jewels and even slaves.

The manse was wonderful. When she was in the manse, she had guests, guards and maids to attend to her every whim, and she loved it because it was different. Annalise had stayed inside of the Firelink Shrine, sometimes alone, sometimes with the would-be champions, and sometimes she would just sit and pray, to whatever god would listen to her. Sometimes hope seemed lost, that the fire would finally go out and leave the world in an Age of Dark.

How was the soul of one little Lord of Cinder meant to relight the flame?

 **William… where are you?** Annalise thought.

The fact that the world she was now in was completely different was baffling her. She was used to the roars of dragons or the screeching of drakes, but in Essos it was completely different. The only sounds she could hear from the manse were the heavy footsteps of the guards of Pentos or the regular hustle and bustle of the city's inhabitants.

She was thankful that Illyrio took her in, fed her and gifted her with new clothes fit for the scorching weather of Essos. She could still wear her blindfold, but the new garbs she wore showed her body off to the world. The black capes and clothes she wore kept her pale skin away from the world, and the hood she wore hid her silvery hair.

After a few days acclimatising to the new weather and pondering on what to do now that she was no longer bound by her oaths as a Fire Keeper, she decided to kindly ask the cheese dealer if he would let her stay with him. Thankfully he did, and she spent most of the days helping around the manse. Annalise didn't mind being a regular servant, she had been one for most of her life.

Yet when she met the pale girl with the silver-white hair and the lilac eyes, she knew if she would follow her then she would be on a path similar to the one she took with William. Her name was Daenerys Targaryen, but she was called 'Stormborn' by Illyrio. She was not alone either, and always watching her every mover was her similar looking brother, Viserys Targaryen. Both had long silvery hair and the lilac eyes, but they were completely different attitude wise. Daenerys was silent, always timid and shy in the presence of Viserys, yet when he was not around she was nice and polite. Soon Illyrio had told Annalise that Daenerys and Viserys were the fugitive children of the last dead Targaryen king of Westoros, across the Narrow Sea.

" _Ah, I sometimes forget you are not from here, my dear little keeper." Illyrio spoke, before he took another sip from his goblet of wine._

" _Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen are of an old royal bloodline, a bloodline that goes back centuries. They are the blood of Old Valyria, and they hold the blood of dragons in their veins, if only dragons still existed. Viserys is hell-bent on getting the Iron Throne, and he will need an army to do it,_ _he wants_ _to be known as Aegon the Conqueror reborn, to restore the House of Targaryen to it's former glory. He will most likely die in the attempt, and he will give up his last living relative in a scheme to get a group of men who will most likely not respect him._ _I feel for the Targaryen girl, but maybe she will be in better hands if she is with the Dothraki, dear Annalise, but I severely doubt that too."_

Illyrio's words had begun to echo in the back of her mind. Would Daenerys be better off the with the savage Dothraki horse-lords she had heard so much of? Apparently the leader of them, Khal Drogo, controlled the largest group of men on the continent. She had heard he would take Daenerys as his bride and lead his warriors to give Viserys his Iron Throne that he wanted so much.

In her free time, as little as she had, Annalise found some tomes written in Braille about the history of the new world she was in. She learnt of Aegon the Conqueror, with his sisters Visenya and Rhaenys and their dragons Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar and how they escaped the Doom of Valyria. She learnt of the Blackfyre bastards, Bloodraven and Bittersteel. Lastly she learnt of the last true Targaryen king. Aerys the Second, the Mad King.

At first, Aerys seemed normal and sane, but as he aged he began to lose his wit. His poor wife Rhaella had become a victim of her insane husband, and was beaten and raped for no other reason other than because Aerys could. So it was no surprise that when Aerys killed Lord Rickard Stark and his eldest son Brandon in front of each other, the majority of the Seven Kingdoms of Westoros rose up in rebellion, starting what was called 'Robert's Rebellion'.

It was one of the bloodiest wars in the history of Westoros.

Robert Baratheon was the close friend of Eddard Stark, the next lord of Winterfell, the main town in the north. At the time, they were wards of Jon Arryn, the Warden of the East, but that did not matter to Mad Aerys, who called for both Robert and Eddard to be delivered to the capital for judgement.

Needless to say, Robert killed the eldest prince, Rhaegar, in the Battle for the Trident, which was the beginning of the end for House Targaryen. Tywin Lannister was allowed into King's Landing with his army, and in the most bloody sack known to man, set Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch onto the Red Keep, the main residence of the royal family. Amory Lorch stabbed the daughter of Prince Rhaegar multiple times, and Ser Gregor Clegane raped his wife, dashed his son's head against the wall, and finally split her in half with his great-sword.

Annalise was shocked when she read about the sack, Lothric had it's fair share of warfare, but everywhere, the Knights of Astora, or the Knights of Berenike were held to a strict code of honour, to not kill children or women, not to rape, and to respect the prisoners, peasantry or nobility. Westoros or Essos were no such place.

 **William, maybe he is Westoros… Is he alive? Would he be safe? Would he be looking for me?**

She was sat in her room, contemplating what could have happened to him. He was a knight, true and proper, and he could take care of himself, he had defeated the First Flame's guardian, the Soul of Cinder, so he could take on any man. When Iudex Gundyr awoke for the first time in ages, she looked off from the bell-tower by the Firelink Shrine and could see William fight the ashen judge, and he fought against the champion with speed and finesse, yet he could give a powerful strikes too. From what she could remember, Will had parried the former champion of with his shield, took the coiled sword and shoved it through Gundyr's helmet and face.

Despite the brutal killing, William was a true and proper knight, one who treated both men and women with honour and respect. Will had always been kind to her, even when he had seemed to have given up hope of reaching the First Flame.

 **But that was then, and we are no longer in Lothric any, more, we are somewhere else…**

As the sun rose high in the sky, Annalise made her way to the entrance of Illyrio's manse. The guardsmen, clad in their light leather armour with pikes and shields had gone to man the walls, looking for the Khal and his blood-riders. Soon enough, the men had arrived, and the stomping of the horses had made their presence known to all of the occupants of the manse. The galloping sounded like war-drums, and when the horses had entered the manse's yard, Annalise could feel the fearlessness, courage and brutality the moment the Dothraki had entered. Then they left as quickly as they arrived. Prince Viserys was shouting, and Illyrio was responding in his quiet tone of voice.

"Where are they going? Did they like her?" The Prince shouted.

"Trust me, Your Grace, if they didn't like her, we would know." The cheese dealer responded.

Throughout the day, the prince was in an unspeakable state, he did not know if his deal had worked. Would he get his army he had wanted for so long? Would he finally take his Iron Throne?

 **Doubtful, he does not have the true mettle that makes a king, he wouldn't last….**

Princess Daenerys was in a state as well, but it was not anger she was plagued by, it was sadness and worry. Annalise had followed Viserys, Daenerys and Illyrio into the gardens just after Khal Drogo had left and when Viserys had told his sister that he 'would let all of the khalasar and their horses fuck you' it had done more harm than good.

 **The poor princess, she won't have a clue what to do with herself when it comes to the wedding…**

The young princess was very pretty, stunningly beautiful even but behind the beauty was the timid and shy girl, the girl who was shouted down and abused by her brother. Annalise had heard that the Targaryen inbreeding had caused a large amount of madness and insanity in the bloodline. Daenerys' father was mad, yet she wasn't but Annalise was not so sure about Viserys. At one time he could be calm, the next he would ranting and raving about how soon he would have his army of Dothraki.

Annalise had witnessed the fall of cities, and she had felt the cold darkness when she knew of the city of Londor, which was ruled by the Sable Church. It was an odd and uncommon feeling, to know there was a city filled with Hollows, and how they didn't end up killing each other the moment they laid eyes on each other. She had felt a hole in her heart when she realised a member of the Sable Church had gotten into the shrine, and had begun to corrupt her place of worship. It was only until William had killed Yuria of Londor, the spy in the shrine that she felt better.

 **I was so stupid to not have realised she was there sooner, I was so busy praying to a god that wouldn't listen…**

Annalise didn't want to dwell on the subject. It was a time where William's headstrong attitude to fixing the problem with brute force had overcame her belief that fate and destiny would fix itself. Needless to say, Will had fixed the problem himself, and the problem was no more. Annalise soon had the princess to herself.

"Princess Daenerys, I don't believe we have had the pleasure of speaking to one another." Annalise began.

"Oh, I am sorry for not conversing with you, I thought I had already met with everyone in the manse." Daenerys responded. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I am Keeper Annalise, Princess Daenerys. I am an advisor of sorts to Magister Illyrio. I should have introduced myself to someone as royal as yourself."

"It is no bother, Keeper Annalise. I won't be a royal for long anyway..." Daenerys mumbled, her eyes looking towards her feet.

"Is there something wrong, Princess?"

"My brother is being… my brother. He has told me I am to be married to this… Khal Drogo and he will be able to take back his throne. He was saying this to me since I was a babe, he has been telling anyone who would let us under their roof and now he is getting his wish."

"Princess, may I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"Prince Viserys will not win the throne. He will not even gain an army."

"How do you know this? How do you know he will not gain his army? He is going to give me to the Khal, and he will have his army."

"I know this because I have known men like your brother. I have watched men like Viserys try and fail to win a kingdom. I have watched men and women just like him crash and burn and die trying to do what he has done. I know men who are greater than him, I know that someone like Viserys will never gain an army if he has no respect for the army that he wants."

"And if I were to tell my brother of what you just said?" Daenerys asked her.

"Then he may try and kill me, but I shall not bow down to a man like him. I am a Keeper, and I will only bow to the man who has defeated the Lords of Cinder, and rekindled the First Flame, and your brother is not that man. If he does try to kill me, then he shall burn."

"Spoken like a true Targaryen. Maybe you and I should swap places."

After an afternoon of polite discussion, the Princess and the Keeper had begun to gain a new-found trust in one another. To say that Princess Daenerys was curious about what had happened in Lothric and before that, Lordran was an understatement. She wanted to know about Gwyn, the Lords of Cinder, Nito, Seath, the Furtive Pygmy and the Dark Soul.

"Keeper Annalise, when you said if Viserys were to kill you, you said you would burn him. How would you do this exactly?"

"I have never wielded a sword in my life. I have always been one to deal with my problems via prayer."

"I don't think prayer can burn people alive, Keeper Annalise." Daenerys responded.

"Oh, I know. It was also what my champion told me before I showed him some pyromancy."

"Pyromancy?"

"Pyromancy is the ability to create and manipulate objects that are made by or can be affected by fire. If your brother does try to kill me, he will burn."

As if by some kind of magic, Annalise's hand was open and just above her pale skinned palm were a ball of flames. A smile was on both of the girls' faces, and the flame then crawled over Annalise's shoulders and onto her other hand.

"Amazing, Simply magnificent!" Daenerys exclaimed in excitement, watching as Annalise began to make the flame dance around her, first around her head, then her shoulders and then her body.

"It is, isn't it? A pyromancer named Cornyx had taught me to do it, and he even allowed me to learn under Karla the Witch to learn the magic of Quelaag and Quelana!"

Annalise had begun to get excited once more, just like when she was a little child, just like when William had offered to share her duty with him. She was happy and she felt amazing.

"Do you… no, ignore it." Daenerys sputtered out, half-heartedly.

"No, please my princess, continue."

"Do you… think you could teach me how to be a… a pyromancer?"

Annalise and Daenerys were staring at each other for a long time, longer than normal. Annalise was a competent, even exceptional pyromancer, both Karla and Cornyx had told her that to her face, but she had never taught anyone how to become a pyromancer.

 **I am a simple Fire Keeper, meant to become kindling for the First Flame, not teach people how to become pyromancers!**

"I suppose I could try… Where we are now, the world we know so far, it doesn't have much magic in it. I could try and create a gauntlet infused with a fire gem so I could teach you some simple casts but I am not so sure about the more complicated ones."

"Thank you, Keeper Annalise. I must tell you, will you tell my brother of these lessons on pyromancy?"

 **God, of course not, there is no telling what he would do to the both of us if he found out…**

"My princess, I would never jeopardise both of our safety like that. I will not tell a soul, not even the Magister."

"Thank you, a thousand times, thank you. I do not know how to make this up to you, Keeper, but I will try to do it one day."

"My princess, there is no need to do that..."

"On my honour as a Targaryen, I will promise to repay you somehow. I should probably take my leave now, I wouldn't want to keep you up all night, Keeper Annalise."

"Oh, of course. Well, it has been wonderful meeting you, Princess Daenerys."

"It has been a pleasure, Keeper Annalise."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Deserter

It was early in the morning, and William had been called down from his quarters earlier than usual to go with Lord Eddard, Robb, Jon, Theon and Bran to see to a deserter from the Night's Watch. From what Lord Eddard had told him, they were a group of men who always wore black, and defended the icey goliath known as The Wall, usually from the men and women who tried to climb over it and raid those living on the other side. Walls and William never really mixed well, especially if the wall had a dragon on it.

 **Stupid scaley bloody lizards, I refuse to believe there were two of them near that bloody castle...**

Will had had lived in the North long enough to realise that simple overalls were not enough in the cold harsh weather of the North, and eventually he started wearing the set of Drang armour whilst he was in the keep of Winterfell, he removed the cape while he was inside and then added it and a hood and mask to keep himself warm whilst exploring the cold countryside of the North.

"Sir Will, are you alright?" Lord Robb has asked, waving his hand in front of Will.

"Yes, my lord, just daydreaming again, I apologise."

"No need to apologise, Ser, we all usually find your thoughts extremely interesting, you should see Arya and Jon after dinner, they'll talk about your adventures for hours into the night."

William had made an effort to try and befriend all of the Stark children and their associates. He couldn't stand even being near Theon, and so never tried talking to him, let alone befriend him. He always looked out of place with the Stark children, but Will never would have guessed he would have guessed that he had been a hostage for over ten years.

The youngest children were the easiest, Will just needed to tell them the less scary stories of his adventures, like when he encountered the Iron Golem alongside Black Iron Tarkus, the Knight of Berenike, who single handedly slain the Golem in a one-on-one fight to the death, or how he had fought the Knight Slayer Tsorig and nearly fell in the pool boiling lava.

For Robb and Jon, Will sparred regularly, and managed to mold them into even better fighters than before, he gave them a few extra fighting stances to use, alomg with a few dirty tricks that they would need to use in desperate times, although they paid for them in almost broken bones and deep purple bruises that looked likely to never heal properly.

Sansa was the hardest, he never had a chance to talk to her but when they did, it always seemed like she had her head filled with romanticised tales of chivalry that looked like it only existed in fairy tales. Prince Charmings and Knights who slayed the dragon, all from books and tales. It took a while for her and Will to get used to each other, but when they did, it was enlightening to know that Sansa was a rather smart girl, smarter than the rest of her siblings, but her belief in the non-existant benevolent princes and knights made her seem more stupid than she let on. Even Sansa somewhat enjoyed William's tales, especially those of the Astoran Knights, the ones who wore long blue capes into battle with the golden lion roaring on the back.

"I thank you, Lord Robb, I never thought that my life stories would be that interesting to you, to be quite honest, although my adventures in Drangleic and Lothric would always garner attention."

"Well, Sir Will, when you go on about fighting giant cursed trees and giants, those types of stories will get attention from everyone."

 **Well, Robb, even I could tell you that...**

The small party of men had soon reached the lonely collection of hills, with four men surrounding one man in black, who was the Night's Watch mutineer.

Will could never understand why one would break their sacred oathes, they knew what they were doing with their lives, so they should never have took their vows, and then ruined their lives when they abandoned them.

"Be quiet, lads, we are here now. Will, I need you to follow me." Yelled Lord Eddard over the billowing winds.

The winds were fighting roughly through the air, each one louder and louder in William's ear. Lord Stark was talking to the prisoner, and from what Will could hear little of, the deserter had seen something that he shouldn't have, and because of it, he rode past the wall and was captured near the fields around Winterfell.

"I know what I saw, my lord. I know what I saw. I saw the white walkers."

Lord Eddard nodded solemnly, and Theon took the sword that was covered by a wolf scabbard and passed it to Lord Eddard. Lord Eddard drew the mighty sword, Ice, and passed the scabbard to Theon once more.

"I, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, in the name of Robert Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do sentence you to die."

Will could see Jon whispering to Bran as Lord Eddard to stance with his sword, but he couldn't hear what was being said over the wind. Bran steeled himself for what was to happen, and kept his eyes open and watched as Lord Eddard took a swing with Ice and with one clean slice, the deserter was dead.

"My lord, do you believe what he said? About your... White walkers?"

"A mad man sees what he sees." Was the quiet answer.

The ride back to Winterfell was a solemn one, Lord Eddard was keeping to himself at the front of the column, mulling over what he had heard, while Bran was with Robb, Jon and Theon talking about what had happened at the execution.

Will was still stuck on what to do about himself, he had no clue what he had to do. He was not used to the land, the people, anything. He only had a basic knowledge of the land, and he needd to fix that if he was going to try and find Annalise. The harsh cold weather was nipping at his skin, the hair on his body slowly rising under the winds, the thick black leather he was wearing not doing anything to stop stop the freezing gales from getting under his skin.

Then the column halted, and William began to head up to the top of the column to see why it had stopped. Next to Lord Eddard were Ser Rodrik Cassel and Robb, stuck on their horses, looking at the bloody and mutilated corpse of a stag.

"Maybe it was a mountain lion?" Theon yelled from behind Robb.

"There aren't any mountain lions in these woods." Lord Eddard replied, looking at the trail of blood that diverted from the the road.

Lord Stark had marched off down the hill by the road, his sons and Ser Rodrik in tow. Will followed behind them, ordering the men to watch the horses before he went. As they got to the bottom, Will could see Lord Eddard kneeling beside a great beast, an antler stuck in the beast's throat.

"It's a direwolf..." Lord Stark announced.

 **It is a bloody big wolf then...**

"There aren't meant to be direwolves south of The Wall." Said Robb.

"Well, there are five of them now, my lord." Will could hear the quiet mewling and howling from the direwolf.

There were five little pups, baby direwolves, all huddling around the mother, trying to get milk. The pathetic mewling could be heard by every man around now, and the Little Lord Bran could not help but pick one of the pups up. The little wolf had smokey grey and silver fur, and seemed to be enjoying the attention Bran was giving him.

"Father, can we keep them and take them home?"

"Lord Stark, they have no mother," Theon raised his voice. "Who is to look after them?"

"Theon has a point," said Ser Rodrik. "They will not survive out here in the wild for long, we should end their suffering quickly."

"No! Father please let me keep him! I will look after them, I promise!"

"No Bran, they have no mother, no milk, we simply do not have the time to spare either."

"Lord Stark!" Will shouted over the rest.

"Yes, Sir Will, you have something to say?"

"Not me, but Jon Snow does." Will replied.

"Go on then, Jon. Speak up, lad."

"Umm, my lord, the direwolf is the sigil of your house, and there are five wolves, five for each of the Stark children. Maybe we should keep them for each child."

Lord Stark looked at Will, and then Ser Rodrik, then sighed. He looked at Bran and began to speak.

"You will feed them yourselves, you shall look after them yourselves, and if they die, then you shall bury them yourselves."

Lord Stark marched back up the hill, and began to wait for everyone to pick up the wolves. Jon looked at Will as the rest of the men began picking up the wolves and began to speak to him.

"Why did you force me to speak? I shouldn't have said anything!"

"You need to learn to speak for yourself and put out your ideas, just because you are a bastard doesn't mean your ideas aren't good."

"I still shouldn't have said anything!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a bastard, it is not my place to speak out against a great lord!"

"But you saved six innocent lives by doing it, so what was wrong about it?"

Jon looked away from Will. "Nothing."

"Exactly. And I believe that this pup is yours." Will quickly handed a little white wolf to Jon in his stupor, before quickly marching up the hill.

X-X-X

Will was wandering around the keep, looking for Lord Stark. As soon as he had made it through the gates, he had dismounted his horse and disappeared like a quick gust of wind. Will had been there to see the astonished look on the faces of the Stark Children as they recieved their wolves. They had held their wolves as tight as they could as the servants took them to give them little pieces of meat and milk and blankets to warm them from the cold winds they had been rescued from.

It felt odd to see a real wolf that looked like they had a realistic size. He had wandered many forests, and seen many different creatures where he had wandered. The Corvians, The Ghru, even the Giants, it was nice to see normal creatures once more. The moment he walked through the forest and could hear the heavy thudding, the falling of the trees, and snow white blur running through the forest, a giant wolf carrying an ornate sword by the hilt in its mouth. It was a grand sight to see, although not so much when William needed to fight back against it.

The battle got worse as the fight went on, the massive sword strike the wolf threw at him, sent him flying, hitting trees and piles of stones as he flew through the air. Yet as Will gave back smaller yet quicker strikes, the wolf began to slow, its strikes being easier to dodge, but as it began to slow to a crawl, Will could see the sadness in its amber coloured eyes, as it dropped the sword, curled up next to Will, and bowed its head, letting Will give the final blow.

While Will was travelling, he would occasionally be visited by the spirit of the wolf, in a small golden form, where it was large enough that it rose up to Will's shoulders. The wolf provided company to Will when he was loneliest, and it definitely helped to say the least.

"Lord Stark! Where are you?"

"By the Godswood, Will. Please, try to keep your voice down."

"I am deeply sorry, my lord, I have never been to a plae like this before. Usually the forests where I am from hold some kind of deep-seated curse, or are filled with bandits."

"Oh, the forest with bandits is the one we the Wolfswood." Lord Stark replied. "Although, we don't have a cursed forest."

"Ha! You should be happy you don't have a cursed forest, they aren't the best thing to have. Then again, you should be happy you don't have a mountain peak filled with Manserpents."

"I imagine that whatever we have, you have it even worse, William?"

"Very true, Lord Stark."

The pair spent some time in the Godswood, laughing about humorous past adventures when they were younger, and Lord Stark told all about what it was like to grow up alongside King Robert Baratheon. The humour was cut short however, when Lady Catelyn arrived.

"A man from another land comes here and makes himself at home within days, and I can't even walk into the Godswood and feel like a Northerner." Catelyn said.

"You have five northern children, of course you are a northerner." Eddard replied with a smile.

Catelyn smiled at her husband, she loved him more than anything. She could trust him, and maybe one day even bare him another child when Rickon had grown up. She was slowly coming to like William, the young knight had made his presence around Winterfell known within days, coming to befriend some of the guards and even her children. With time, she knew she could begin to trust him with her life, he seemed like a trusting young knight, and one of the few people who deserved to be knights, unlike the Kingslayer, or the Mountain.

"Cat, what is the matter? Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry, my love. Jon Arryn has died. King Robert rides for Winterfell."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The King is Coming!

Winterfell was very busy. Busier than ever before, and definitely busier than William had ever seen it before. Usually the servants would take leisurely strolls through the castles walls, carrying fresh bedsheets or food to wherever they needed to be, but now they were runing through the halls making sure every little detail of the castle was immaculate.

William was helping out in the dining hall, pulling up the massive chandeliers which had just been refilled with new candles, and it was only him doing it single-handedly, the rest of them taking two or three men to successfully pull the chandeliers up back to their original positions as quickly as possible. Eventually he could see Lady Catelyn marching past him, with Maester Luwin by her side. Will could hear her talking about one Tyrion Lannister, and how he needed lots of ale, or wine to keep him entertained for his time at Winterfell, before they stopped beside William.

"Maester Luwin, this is William, Winterfell's new soldier, and part-time decorator."

"Only for today, Lady Catelyn. It is nice to finally meet you, Maester Lwin."

"It is nice to meet someone who is from somewhere that isn't from somewhere I haven't heard of, Sir William."

Lady Catelyn was dressed in her finest robes, a sea blue dress with a small wolf pelt arond the back of her neck and shoulders. Maester Lwin was in his regular grey woolen robes, albeit slightly more cleaner, his chains shiny and rattling around as he walked out the hall with Lady Catelyn.

 **The king is coming, and the last time I was with a king he ended up dying...**

He ended up wandering Drangleic Castle not long after he actually began wandering around the kingdom of Drangleic. The massive beasts around there had inconvinienced him obviously, especially The Rotten and the Duke's Freja, but when William had finally slain them, they weren't causing anymore problems. One problem however, was Vendrick.

Vendrick had been possibly the worst fight of his life, possibly even worse than the battle against the Soul of Cinder. To see such a great man, the likes of which would never be seen again, crawling around in such ruins almost brought a tear to the eye of William, although the tears were postponed when the hollowed Vendrick almost brought his greatsword down on William's head.

Fighting him was worse. While William was busy swinging both swords against Vendrick, he realised that they were always blocked by Vendrick's sword, or they actually did hit him and they just didn't affect him in anyway. The battle lasted for hours, the great hall they were in was obscured by the darkness, so all Vendrick and William could see was each other.

When William finally wore Vendrick down to the point where he was kneeling. William could only look at the ruined king's eyes and the grey depthes which held the recesses of Vendrick's consciousness. Vendrick looked at William with the largest look of sadness he could muster, and gave the biggest sigh of relief when William finally ended his pain.

 **I can't believe I am even thinking of Vendrick, I am now a member of House Stark, I am loyal to Lord Eddard, I am no longer who I once was, that was in the past...**

"Sir William, the chandelier..."

"What? What do you want?"

"It is not going any higher, Sir."

"Oh, I am sorry."

Thinking of Vendrick had put William in a dour mood, even worse than the usual mood he was in when he thought about before he was a loyal soldier to House Stark. Killing such a great man was not one of William's greatest moments. However, he felt he had redeemed himself when the evil bitch Nashandra had made her presence, and evil intent, known to William, before trying to kill him with her bone scythe.

Needless to say, it did not end well for Nashandra.

"Will, come here!"

Robb had shouted over to Will, his bare torso exposed to all of the serving staff, with Jon and Theon dressed similarly behind him. The barber was showing no mercy to Theon, cutting off every single hair to make him look somewhat presentable.

"I am busy, Lord Robb!"

"I'm no Lord, and you need to get a cut before the King gets here, Father's orders!"

 **Fucks sake...**

-X-X-X-

After finally finishing off the dining hall for the feast later, and having his head sheared like a sheep, William was not in the best of moods again. He liked his hair long, and it was easier to sort out by just simply tying anything that was loose back, and the tied back hair looked better with a small beard, it gave William a more masculine, yet handsome look.

Lady Catelyn had gathered the Stark family and the some others, like Vayon Poole, Jory and Rodrik Cassel, and lectured them on looking the best for King Robert and The Royal Family. She specifically lectured Ser Rodrik with his outstanding beard, ordering him to tie it up to look somewhat neat.

Other than beards, and other things that William didn't need to worry about, everything else seemed fine. Obviously, William was going to be dressed in his finest robes, although what he lacked in fine robes, he was knee-deep in ornate and well-made armour. It was a matter of what light armor that looked like fine robes could be worn without making it look like William was asking for a fight.

William hated robes, they made him feel weak, undefended, vulnerable. He felt safe in armour, while he was walking around in a massive set of steel, chain and plating, he felt invincible, but that would be until a crystal lizard rolled him and smacked him with its tail.

 **My Drakeblood Armor, ornate, yet it looks like it could be worn at small and private events...**

The Drakeblood set was one of his most untouched sets of armour, it was a personal trait of William's, that if anything piqued his interest and he could take it, he would, but he would never use it if he risked harming its potential value.

He looked at himself in his armour, and he couldn't help but feel proud to see himself in a proper set of armour once again. It made him feel whole, and if he could wear his armour and swing his swords, he felt like a living weapon, and nothing could stop him. The Drakeblood Armour shone in the looking glass, and it made Will feel like he could smile with pride. He wore Anri's straightsword on his hip in honour of his friend, and it reminded him of his heritage, as a knight of Astora, and a Champion of Ash.

"Sir William! Sir William!"

"What is it?" Will yelled back in response to the voice outside his room.

"The King! His honour guard has been spotted! He will be here in a few minutes!"


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 6: The Stag King

When the honour guard had been spotted, everyone in Winterfell had gone absolutely mad. Where as before, the serving staff were jogging around the castle making sure all of the rooms were ready, now they were full on sprinting around the castle, making sure every little corner of the keep was immaculate.

William was now fully garbed in the Drakeblood Armour, the silver and red armour plating made him stand out from the crowd. His blood red cape was dragging behind him as he marched to get to the outside of the castle quickly before the king and the royal family arrived.

 **At least I finally get to meet this Robert Baratheon, whoever this great King is meant to be...**

William quickly marched over to Lord Stark's left side. He could see Lady Catelyn on his right, and next to her, in order of age, the Stark Children, bar Arya.

"Where have you been, Will?" Lord Stark asked.

"I have been in my quarters, trying to get the armour to fit properly, without it digging into my sides with every single step that I take." Will replied.

"Oh, I know the feeling, you never forget the first time you get into a suit of armour. It's rough, jagged, uncomfortable, every little thing feels absolutely horrible."

"Believe me, I have never gotten used to the feeling." Will murmured quietly.

As soon as Will had finished his sentence, the first few horses of the honour guard had began to enter the courtyard. The flags they carried were either red with a golden lion, or black with a golden crowned stag. Lord Stark had explained to him previously that these were the sigils of House Lannister and House Baratheon respectively, and that each house had there own sigil.

Then there were the men dressed in golden armour, with odd shaped helmets on their heads. Will had noticed that there were only seven of them, and guessed that they would be the King's personal guard.

Soon after, was a gallant looking blonde haired man dressed in the same armour as the Kingsguard. Behind him was the largest carriage William had ever seen in all of his lives. It had giant wheels carrying it, and the outside was decorated in ornate golden lions and stags. Will guessed that it was the carriage for the royal family.

Behind the carriage entered a small blonde boy, with emerald green eyes riding on atop a blood-coloured horse, with an even larger man behind him, dressed in grey steel armour, his helm shaped like a hound. The boy had the smuggest look on his face Will had ever seen, and was looking at Sansa like she was a piece of meat. He could see that Robb had noticed it too, and was staring at the boy, who must have been the prince.

 **If it looks like a cunt, and sounds like a cunt, then it is probably a cunt, and he definitely looks like a cunt...**

Last but not least was the largest man Will had seen since he had arrived in Winterfell. He had long black hair, and massive beard too, which were hiding his multiple chins He wore black leather with a noticeable golden trim and thick black bear pelt as his cape. Beside him were two more men dressed in the golden armour, and nobody else followed the king that William could see.

Everyone knelt quickly, and William quickly followed suite, and a squire quickly brought some steps to the large fat man, and quickly ran off, allowing the king to get off his horse without any help, it pained William not to laugh at the large man, who seemed to be trying extremely hard to get off of the horse. He kept in his laughter and watched as an elegant woman with golden hair and beautiful green eyes stepped out of the carriage, with a small girl and boy following right after her, looking around at their new location.

 **Wow, is this everyone? I was expecting more people to be honest, and where is the King?**

The large man marched over to Lord Stark with a grimace on his face, which also happened to be beet red because of the cold.

"Ned, rise." The man ordered.

Lord Stark knelt, and the two men proceeded to stare at each other for what felt like forever, even looking up and down at each other as if they were trying to remember what used to be there.

"You've gotten fat." The man stated.

Lord Stark raised an eyebrow, and it took every part of William to not burst out laughing at the irony. Lord Stark never said a word, but pointed his head at the large stomach of the man in front of him. More silence overtook the courtyard before the large man guffawed something fierce, guffawing even louder than Siegward of Catarina, the Knight of Onions as William liked to call him.

"Oh, Ned, nine long years... what have you been doing for those nine years, Ned?"

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace."

 **Your Grace? This? This is the King? The Great Robert Baratheon? The man who destroyed the Targaryen Dynasty? Wow...**

"Ah, I see. And who is this young man next to you?" Robert asked, looking at William.

"This is Sir William..." Eddard trailed off, not knowing Will's full name.

"Sir William Redding, Your Grace."

"And what do you do here, Sir William Redding?" Robert asked again.

"I offer council to Lord Eddard, and also serve as Lady Sansa's sworn shield." William replied.

"I see, and is he loyal, Ned?"

"Loyal to a fault, Robert. I wish all of my men were like him."

Robert patted William's shoulder and marched off to meet the rest of the Stark family, and soon after he was done, the elegant golden-haired woman made her presence known. Lord Stark bowed quickly and kissed her hand.

"Queen Cersei, it is an pleasure to see you once more."

"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Stark." Queen Cersei replied quickly, before looking at William up and down with those piercing emerald green eyes before marching in front of him.

 **That dress makes her breasts look fucking massive...**

William avoided looking at her chest area to keep his self-respect and to keep himself from thinking about it even more, when Cersei offered her hand to William, he quickly took it and gave it a quick kiss.

 **She smells like lavender...**

"My Queen, it is an honour to finally meet you. I have heard many tales of your beauty, but they don't do you justice at all."

"Again, the pleasure is all mine, what is your name, good ser?" Cersei asked with a polite smile on her face.

 **William, I swear if you fall for the Queen because she smiled for you, don't think your special, she's married to the king...**

"William Redding, My Queen."

"What a lovely name. You seem to be a polite young man, I hope to spend some more time with you."

"Of course, My Queen, it would be an honour."

By the time he had finished, Queen Cersei had walked off to meet the rest of the Starks.

 **William, please get a hold of yourself, get a grip, don't let your cock lead you astray, if you do that, we will never find Annalise, that is what we should be focusing on, finding our Keeper, not playing around with Kings and Queens. We need to find Annalise...**

As soon as the procession had left the courtyard, William ran off to the Winterfell library, and tried to find as much information he could on the different locations where Annalise could possibly be before he ran off back to his quarters.

 **Dorne, The Reach, The Iron Islands, Essos, Slaver's Bay, Sothoryos, The Summer Islands, Braavos, Qohor, Qarth, she could be fucking anywhere!**

William got out of his armour and into some finer underclothes, the clothes he would wear if he were going to a ball in Astora. A black leather tunic and trousers with a red trim that seemed very noticeable. Will felt naked, he wished he could be in his armour, but he knew it wasn't proper Astoran etiquette if he were to do it.

 **But William, you are not in Astora anymore, this is Westoros...**

William hated being talked down to in his head, he hated himself when it happened. He felt like a child, he was a knight of Astora, he was a grown man, he should know he shouldn't be getting distracted by the Queen, he should be looking for Annalise, not having a feast with people he barely knew.

 **Who cares about Annalise? She's probably dead, taken by the First Flame, you are probably alone here...**

 **NO! SHE IS NOT DEAD, I CAN FEEL IT, I KNOW SHE IS ALIVE!**

Will sat down on his bed, and sighed. He needed someone to talk to, someone who knew what he was going through, someone who knew what he had been through, he needed Annalise, he needed his Fire Keeper.

 **Ooooh? Your Fire Keeper? Since when did you get so possessive, William?**

"Get a grip, William. Get a hold of yourself, breathe in, breathe out, think about a plan, how are we going to travel? How do we cross the Narrow Sea? How do we find Annalise?"

William looked at himself in the mirror, and he could tell he had changed since Lothric. He never fought against himself, he was always dead-set on what he needed to do, he just needed guidance when he lost his way. Annalise was guiding him when he lost himself on the path to find Aldrich, and now he had lost himself again, and he needed guidance, and he had nobody to guide him.

 **Go with the Royal Family when they return to wherever they came from! Go to a port, get a map, and go to wherever you want to go!**

"Sir Will, you need to hurry, the feast is about to begin!"

"Ok, I will be out in a minute."

William threw of the overcoat of his outfit and let out a mighty sigh.

 **Time to have a bit of time to myself, I might as well get myself drunk one last time before I set off on my journey...**


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: A Wedding

Annalise was immensely uncomfortable.

Immensely uncomfortable did not even describe the feelings that Annalise was feeling, the feeling of fear, loneliness, terror.

Yet what was happening around her wasn't as scary to the Dothraki as it was to her. Yet Annalise knew she shouldn't have been complaining, because Princess Daenerys felt even worse than her, even more scared, even more alone, even more terrified.

She was sat next to Magister Illyrio, who was sitting down and smiling at all of the celebrations happening around him, the Dothraki dancing arond them, the Dothraki fighting and killing each other for next to no reason, and if there was a reason, then it was stupendously banal.

It was even worse when Illyrio said that a Dothraki wedding was considered boring if at least three people didn't die.

 **Gods, I wish William would save me, I just need to see him, just once, and then I will be fine, please, only once...**

"Are you alright, my dear?" Illyrio said with a smile, as he took a bite out of one of the Dothraki blood pies.

"Yes, just not used to the celebrations, I am more used to the quiet and peaceful environment of my shrine."

Illyrio looked at her with a wry smile, one that she had never seen before from the cheese dealer. He took another bite out of one of the blood pies and finished it off, licking each finger clean.

"Listen, you will have to fly away from the nest one day, and your praying to whatever or whoever is listening will not get you anywhere. I know you are scared, but you must leave that fear behind at one point or another."

"And who are you to tell me about fear, cheese dealer? You, who has never begged for food or money, begged for anything in his life?"

Illyrio looked at her, dead-eyed, and let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, you speak such simple truth."

"And yet you laugh, cheese dealer. And yet you laugh at me, laugh at those who are worse off than you."

Again, Illyrio laughed, but didn't say anything else to the little priest. There was nothing else to say to her, he knew that he couldn't say anything else without causing a riot, and causing a riot in the middle of Khal Drogo's khalasar, and so close to Khal Drogo, was not a part of his plan.

"Illyrio, are you being awful to this young lady? When you are in a King's presence?"

Annalise turned around to see the long and flowing silver hair and the deep violet eyes behind Illyrio and herself. He had a beak-like nose, and he stood over Illyrio and Annalise like a giant.

"I apologise, King Viserys, please forgive my bad attitude, but she works for me."

"No longer, Illyrio, she now belongs to Daenerys, she is now the Khaleesi, whatever that is. The Horselord's Whore, most likely, but she now belongs to Daenerys none the less." Viserys stated, giving another wry smile to Annalise.

"Of course, my king." Illyrio muttered before walking off, allowing Viserys to sit next to Annalise.

She could sense Viserys Targaryen from miles away. He had this air about him which just couldn't be ignored, yet it wasn't a good presence. It was a presence that begged for attention, begged for anything, she had heard the whispers, that the Dothraki didn't respect Viserys, instead they called him the Beggar King.

 **I am not scared of him, I shall never be scared of this... worm...**

"Don't worry about Illyrio, he's just a cheese dealer, he cannot do anything to you."

"I know, Your Grace, I could see that."

"Can you believe this, I am relying on these... savages, to take back my kingdoms that are righfully mine. I know the people in Westoros shout my name, and beg for me to be their king."

 **Gods, he is even worse in person, let alone just talking about him...**

"Of course, Your Grace."

 **Somebody, anybody, please save me from the torture that is talking to Viserys Targaryen...**

She couldn't help but look over and see the shy Daenerys sat next to the intimidating Khal Drogo. They were complete opposites of the other, but she could sense that Daenerys had a fire inside of her that Viserys lacked, as if she were going to be the one crowned at the end of it all.

Daenerys looked beautiful, her pale skin shone in the scorching sun, and her hair wasn't tied up, instead flying loose in the wind. She was to become the Khaleesi of the greatest khalasar known to man, but with the look on her face, she was worried about something about something else entirely.

Khal Drogo looked entirely focused on his men, his loyal Dothraki enjoying themselves, partaking in pleasures of the flesh. He gave a roar of approval when one Dothraki sliced open the gut of another when a fight broke out, and as a reward, two of the female Dothraki 'ambushed' him and took him somewhere else. He wore his riding pants and boots, with some fine wraps around his hands, and a golden belt wrapped around his waist, laden with various types of gems set in the belt, and when the wind blew his hair in a different direction, you could hear the bells in his hair begin to jingle.

Soon enough, a man who looked like he wasn't from Essos began to climb the steps to Khal Drogo and Daenerys, he knelt before Khal Drogo, and offered a collection of history books from Westoros. He wore some rough leather armour, with a small cloth cloak around his shoulders fluttering in the wind, with a roaring bear that cold be barely seen in the leather. As he stepped away from the Khal and his new wife, Annalise jumped up away from Viserys and went over to the man.

"Umm, excuse me, Ser?"

"Yes, my lady?" The man said as he looked out at the sea.

"Would you happen to be from Westoros?"

"Why, yes I am. Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island, at your service, and who am I talking to?"

"Lady Annalise... Annalise Redding."

"Well, Lady Annalise, I am from Westoros, I am from the North. What is it you would like to know?" Ser Jorah asked, a small smile on his face.

"Have you heard of anyone called Ser William Redding? Or anywhere he might be residing?" Annalise replied.

"Is he your brother, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Of sorts, have you heard anything?" Annalise asked.

"Only rumours from other Westorosi sellswords, but apparently there has been rumours of Lord Eddard Stark having hired a sellsword from somewhere I have never heard of before, a sworn shield for his eldest daughter, at least that is what I have heard."

"Oh, thank you, thank you so much!" Annalise had been so excited that she had began to hug Ser Jorah, and she could feel the roughness of his thick beard.

To Annalise, any news about William was good news. If he was alive, it would be even better because if they were together they could plan their next move.

"Do you miss him? You miss your brother?" Jorah asked her, a sincere look on his face.

"Yes, but it has been so long since I have seen him, I don't know if he will remember me..."

 **You just lied, to someone who just gave you possible the best news you have heard since you arrived in Essos...**

"If it is any consolidation, I miss my family too. I miss my father, Jeor Mormont, my aunt Maege, my nieces Dacey and Lyanna, fierce little ones. But alas, I have shamed my family, and I can never see them again, but if you travel with me, I promise to try and help you find your brother."

"But... I am sworn to the Khaleesi..."

"Then I shall travel with the Khalasar, as long as Khal Drogo allows it, if not, we should meet back here in Pentos."

"Of course, Jorah, it was nice meeting you."

Annalise looked around her, trying to regain her bearings, she was overlooking the Narrow Sea, and she had only moved a few steps away from where the Khal and the Khaleesi were sat.

"Wh... Where is the Khaleesi?"

"Khal Drogo has taken her somewhere private, I suspect. It was time for the consummation just a bit ago."

 **May the gods protect the Khaleesi...**

"Will she be alright?" Annalise asked.

"I hope so, but I am not sure if her brother cares, he keeps on saying he is a dragon, but I suspect that he is less than the shadow of a snake, and that the Khaleesi is the true dragon, and if she is, then she can handle the bedding. She will have to."

"It seems we will have to wait and see, Ser Jorah. We will have to wait and see."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: After The Feast

After much deliberation, and two flagons of wine to drink himself to sleep, Will had awoke with a painful hangover, one of the most painful ones he could remember.

 **Two flagons and I'm dying? I must be losing my edge...**

From what he had seen at the feast, King Robert and Queen Cersei definitely didn't have the happiest of marriages. Robert had walked from the dais and into the crowd of men and women, and started kissing and fondling quite a few of the serving girls, even placing his own crown on their heads whilst Queen Cersei looked at him scornfully.

 **Ok, you go with the royal family to wherever they go, find a ship, and go to Essos. Easy, a simple plan...**

William took the time to clothe himself in his Drang armour, leaving his cloak and hood and began to wander the halls of the keep. His stomach was rumbling, begging for anything edible. He walked in on Robb and Jon, and thankfully, Theon was nowhere to be seen.

"Morning, Will! How's your head?"

"Pounding, Robb. Could you speak a bit quieter, I think my head vibrates when I hear when somebody speaking..." Will replied.

"Of course, Betha, get Sir Will some bacon, bread and some ale, before he keels over in front of us." Robb said with a cheeky smile, with Jon smirking as he continued eating his own food.

Will took a seat next to Robb, and they began to discuss what they thought of the royal family. Will was not surprised when both Robb and Jon shared the same opinion as Will when they began to talk about the Crown Prince, Joffrey Baratheon. Yet he had still managed to latch onto Sansa's affectionate side, to nobody's surprise.

"I saw the way he was looking at Sansa when he arrived through the gates, like she was a piece of meat." Jon said as he finished off his last rasher of bacon.

"As did I, Jon. I felt like punching the blonde shit." Will replied.

"I think we all saw it," Robb stated. "He wasn't exactly making it subtle."

"He doesn't look like the subtle type to me."

"When have you ever heard of a subtle Baratheon, Jon? You saw how King Robert was acting with the serving girls last night, it wasn't exactly subtle, was it?" Robb looked at Jon, who had a tired look on his face.

"He has a point." Will said, as a plate of bacon and a mug of ale was placed in front of him. Will took the ale and downed it in one go, desperate to dull the pain in his head.

"Desperate, Will?" Robb asked with a grin.

"More than you know, Stark. I think I have been blessed with food." Will replied. "What is happening today?"

"Apparently the Lannister men and some of our lads have started making bets at the sparring arena in the courtyard. Me and Jon are gonna go there and have a look what's going on, feel like coming with us?"

"Got nothing else to do, might as well. Gods, it might even be fun."

 **Bloody hell, how long has it been since we had fun?**

 **Too long...**

William wolfed down the bacon and went with Jon and Robb to the courtyard. He could already tell it had been turned into a mini-war. The Stark men had occupied the left side of the arena, coloured in the grey and dark greens, whilst the Lannister men had taken the right side, dressed in their lion-like armour, coloured in golden and crimson, with Prince Joffrey leading them, The Hound right behind him.

 **They call themselves lions, Ornstein was a lion, may his soul rest in peace...**

"Will, over here!" Robb called over to him.

Will marched over to the Stark side of the arena, and when he turned around, he could see Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn looking over the arena, with Ser Rodrik Cassel in charge. As Will walked through the collection of guards, he could see Bran, covered in padding, a wooden sword in his hand, preparing for a round in the arena, most likely against the youngest prince, Tommen.

"I know you can do it, Bran. You'll be quicker than him, because you have less padding and you should be able to get more hits." Jon reassured him, patting him on the shoulders.

"Ok, Jon. I think I am ready." Bran mumbled, loud enough for Jon to hear him.

"Alright, little lord, get in their and show those Lannisters what Starks are made of!" Will shouted, getting the Stark men riled up as they began cheering for Bran.

Just like Jon had said, Bran was a lot quicker than Prince Tommen, Bran was dashing around the arena dodging nearly all of Tommen's strikes, and landing most of his own. Tommen was taking the hits like he was in his own suit of armour, if the armour was made entirely out of padding. The match was soon over, when Bran thrust the wooden sword at Tommen's chest, falling over into the dirt.

"Bran wins!" Rodrik cried out, with a smile on his face.

Tommen was red in the face, panting and puffing every breath, whilst walking back over to the Lannisters, and his older brother. Who had snatched the wooden sword away from his brother and had marched into the arena with a grin on his face.

"Any of you weak Starks dare to fight me?" He proclaimed, looking at Robb with a smirk.

Will looked at Jon. "Robb is better with the lance, Jon. Why won't you fight?"

"Because a bastard like me cannot hurt royal blood. It would have to be another high-born, like Robb."

"Oh, fine. Give me the bloody sword." Robb said with a sigh. Jon and Will smirked as he walked into the arena slowly.

Robb was the first to start attacking, and he attacked well. He wasn't letting Joffrey catch his breath, and with Joffrey caught off his guard so much, he couldn't even form his defence. Will could tell he wasn't trained in swordsmanship at all. He was pathetic, trying to swing his sword while his side was wide open to attack by Robb. The fight ended when Robb punched Joffrey in the face, his hand tightly wrapped around the handle of the sword.

"I don't even think the prince was trying there..." Jon murmured to Will.

"After that display, I don't think the boy knows what trying even is." Will replied, getting a small lagh from Jon as Robb marched over, a triumphant smile on his face.

Joffrey looked furious, if what Will could see was any indication. His face was red, and the side of his face where Robb had punched had a little cut on it, as it slowly began to bleed. The Stark men were laghing at the display, and as Robb walked over to them, they gave him a load of pats on the back, cheering out 'Stark! Stark!'

Then the unmissable golden hue of the Kingsguard had marched over to the Lannister side, with Sir Jaime, marching into the middle of the arena, looking over to the Stark men.

"It is nice to see all these Lords and Princes fight, but I think it is time to let the real men fight, with live steel. Is there anyone willing to spar with me? Anyone? Trust me, I don't bite. I am willing to go easy on you." Said Ser Jaime, arms spread out wide, looking at everyone and waiting for a reply.

 **Come on, show him what you can do. You can defeat the Lords of Cinder, you practically are one. This guy is like the Ruin Sentinels in comparison to you...**

 **That is a bit mean to compare him to the Ruin Sentinels, don't you think?**

 **"** Sod it, I volunteer." Will yelled out, to recieve a wide smile from Jaime.

"You look familiar, I haven't defeated you at a tourney before, have I?" Jaime asked.

"No, Sir William Redding. I come from a small house, you won't know it, Ser Jaime."

Will drew the twinswords he had taken from Black Hand Gotthard's corpse and gave them a little twirl. He looked at Lord Eddard, who was watching with anticipation. Sansa had walked beside her mother and had her hand wrapped around her mother's. Sansa was sporting a look of concern on her face, as was Lady Catelyn, and the soldiers around the arena had gone silent.

 **Their concerns are well-recieved, this is the great Jaime Lannister, or so I have heard...**

The fight had been a blur from the beginning, and Will had completely focused on Jaime, and all he cold hear was the crashing and clanging of steel, with the occasional scapring as the swords pulled away from each other.

 **Keep calm, it is how you bested Gundyr, and it is how you bested the Dancer...**

It was like William and Jaime were dancing with each other. It was like two wolves fighting over a mate or prey. Jaime was indeed a good swordsman, no doubt, but compared to Will, he was nothing. He moved with grace, enough grace that it looked like he was levitating off of the ground. Will would block his strikes with his two swords, and use one sword to land a quick poke or slash at Jaime, who would occasionally block it or dodge.

"You surprise me, Redding, I thought you would be terrible."

They went back and forth, steel meeting steel, making sparks fly with each blocked strike. Forward and backward, forward and backward. Each of them going blow for blow. Will managed to block Jaime's attempted head slash, holding it down with one sword while the other sword strike knocked Ser Jaime's sword right out of his hand, ending the fight.

 **Easy...**

"You proved me wrong, Redding, you actually are quite good." Ser Jaime, with sincerity in his voice as he picked up his sword.

"Aye, you as well, Ser Jaime. You are definitely the best swordsman in the realm."

 **He wasn't that good, I just don't want to hurt his feelings...**

Will and Jaime shook hands and walked over to their respective sides. The men had dispersed now, and it was just Robb, Jon and Bran at the other end of the arena. Lord Eddard had marched out, with Lady Catelyn and Sansa in tow.

"Well fought, Will. Fighting against the Kingslayer is not an easy thing to do."

"Thank you, Lord Stark." Will replied with a smile.

"You fought just like Barristan the Bold or the Dragon Knight, Will. That fight was incredible!" Bran had exclaimed.

"It felt incredible."

 **No, it did not, it felt boring. Maybe the Ruin Sentinels were harder...**

He could feel Jon and Robb smacking him on the back, with grins on their faces. They had congratulated him on gaining the victory before they walked off with Bran, leaving William with Eddard, Catelyn and Sansa.

"Will, Sansa, we need to talk in private about something. Come, we shall talk in my office."

The walk over to Lord Eddard's office was quick, but he was met by some servants and guards who had gave William a quick congratulations for his victory over the Kingslayer. They soon were in the office, and Lord Eddard had taken his seat, and he was looking at both William and Sansa in front of him.

"If you do not know by now, I have been chosen by King Robert to be his Hand of the King. Which means I will have to travel to King's Landing, and I know that Robert also wants me to have one of my children marry one of his. We have decided to have you and Joffrey marry."

"Oh, thank you so so much, Father! Thank you!" It sounded like Sansa was going to burst into tears then and there as she gave Lord Eddard a loving hug.

"It was nothing, Sansa, anyway, since we haven't been to the capitol, I am bringing some of the household guard with me, and I want you with me too, Sir Will."

"Of course, my lord."

 **Looks like I will be with Lord Stark for a while...**

"And because of this, I have also decided to bring Arya and Bran with us as well. Bran can experience what it is like to see other knights, and Arya can see what it is like to..." Lord Eddard sighed. "Be a lady."

Sansa giggled at the comment, trying to hide it.

 **Arya? A lady? Don't make me laugh, she probably would run back to Winterfell if she knew of the reason why she was coming with us.**

"But, you are my daughter, Sansa, and King's Landing is a dangerous place, you never know what might happen whilst we are there. I am making Sir William your sworn shield, Sansa."

 **The Starks are coming with me to the capitol, I can keep close to them because I am basically a bodyguard, and I can watch the little shit that is meant to be a prince...**


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Lord of Cinder

The ride to King's Landing had not started well, and when the day came around when Will and the Starks, Lannisters and the Baratheons had gone to leave, the news had come from Maester Luwin that he had slipped and lost his grip while climbing the broken tower, and from what else Maester Luwin had said, it sounded like Brandon Stark would never work again. It was a shame, and Will was particularly saddened by this, as he had seen Brandon spar, multiple times since he had first arrived in Westoros, and he had potential, enough potential that Will had thought about asking Lord Stark to make Bran his own personal squire, but those thoughts were torn to pieces when Bran had fell.

 **Another reason to find Anna, she could fix anything, I know she could, she has done it me enough times…**

It was not long until the convoy to King's Landing had started, and the relationship between the King and Lord Stark was not as stable as William had once thought. Lord Stark had brought Will into the discussion of what to do with a girl named Daenerys Targaryen, a girl that seemed too young to even pose a small threat to the Iron Throne and the Baratheon Dynasty.

" _I would have to agree with Lord Stark," Will began, "Daenerys Targaryen has done nothing to gain the enmity of the Iron Throne, besides, this Viserys Targaryen you speak of seems to be the root of the problem, if you go after him, the fire is snuffed before it turns into an unstoppable blaze."_

Those were his words, and he would firmly stick by them. Will was contemplating how he would explain to Lord Stark about his departure when they finally reached King's Landing as he rode along the Kingsroad upon his horse, which had aptly named 'Cinder' after he realised the dark black courser had distinct orange lines lines wrapped over the horse's jet black skin.

"Will? Will are you alright?"

Will was pulled out of his stupor when he felt a small hand push up against his dirty white tunic. Lady Arya was riding beside him, riding a smaller white mare.

"Yes, Lady Arya, I was just day-dreaming."

"You seem to be day-dreaming a lot then, Will."

 **She's right,** William thought. If Will had any possible time to himself, he spent his time day-dreaming. It wasn't always day-dreaming, most of the time it was him hearing voices inside of his head, the voices of Siegward, Hodrick, or Sirris. Sometimes when he was sleeping, he could see them. It was always Siegward he could see first, the steadfast and joyous onion knight.

 **Well, how are you gonna miss someone like him? It's not like the onion suit makes him hard to spot…**

"I know. I have caught you looking in on me when you think I'm not looking. I'm not stupid, Lady Arya." 

"I am not a Lady!"

"Yes, you are. You just don't want to act like one." Will replied with a smirk, watching as Arya's face turned into a frown.

Arya stared at him, and it wasn't a stare filled with anger or sadness, it was of curiosity.

"Uh, your arm is glowing."

 **What?"**

Will rolled up the sleeve on his tunic, and he could see the veins going up from his wrist and to his shoulders were glowing bright orange, and if Arya could see it through the tunic, it meant anybody could. Will quickly checked the other arm, and seeing the exact same thing, he quickly pulled down his sleeves once more, attempting to hide the fire in his veins.

" _ **Castle Darry is ahead!"**_

When the announcement from one of the Lannister retainers that the hold of House Darry was just ahead, the men from all three houses began to slowly let down their guard, as they were in safe ground. Will stirred his Cinder into a steady gallop, eager to get to the front of the convoy so he could talk to Lord Stark. Stark was riding next to King Robert, so William rode behind him slowly. Lord Stark turned to William before speaking:

"Are you alright, William, you look troubled?" He asked.

"May I have permission to ride ahead and scout the area around Darry? To eliminate any possible threats?"

 **You are such a bad liar, Will…**

"Of course, Ser Will, ride on."

Will gave a loud yell, and Cinder broke into a quick sprint, and Will felt all the better for it. He could feel the cool wind in his hair and against his skin, he could feel the fire in his veins begin to die out as he found a small little patch of land that sat directly next to the Ruby Ford, where Will hopped off his horse, knelt down by the ford and dumped his head into the cool and clean water as it covered his hair and face.

 **Nice and cool….**

William pulled himself out from the water, and he proceeded to push the dangling strains of hair back, watching his droplets of spring water trickled from his hair and onto the tunic he was wearing.

It took a while for William to cool down again. When he was embered back in Lothric, it was bearable to a point. At some points he wished he could just die on purpose so he was back to being a body made of cold ash, but it didn't feel right for Will he willingly let one of the Cathedral Knights slice him in half.

 **Maybe it was uncomfortable because, oh I don't know, you were fucking cut in half?!**

"You are definitely not from where I think you are from, are you?"

 **Oh, Arya, as much as I like you fro being an insistent little shit, please just leave me for a while, let me regain my strength…**

"Where do you think I am from, pray tell?"

"Somewhere where it is considered normal to dunk your head in a river if you're a bit warm."

 **Haha, very funny…**

William looked at Arya, and Arya looked straight back at him with a suspicious stare. Will sighed before patting the ground beside him. "Sit, and I shall tell you whatever you want to know." He stated, so Arya tied her mare to the same tree Will had tied his own horse to.

Arya sat down next to Will, but they sat in silence for a while before Will started speaking.

"Whatever I tell you, I want you to promise me that you will never tell anyone other than your father about what I tell you. _Promise me, Arya."_

"I promise, I won't tell a soul, I swear it on the old gods and the new." She replied, and she looked at Will, who was just sitting dejected and silent.

"Where are you really from?" Arya asked.

"Astora, but whatever I told Bran or Sansa, about it being a land filled with vineyards and palaces, it was all lies. Astora is nothing but ashes and sand by now. There was an attack there, by an evil, foul and loathsome being that I had been hunting since I had become a Knight. It was called Aldrich, and we called him the Devourer of Gods, a moniker not to be taken lightly."

"He ate… the gods?"

"He ate one that I know of, Gwyndolin. I'm not sure of the others. I met another Knight of Astora, her name was Anri, and she was my closest friend other than my sister… Annalise."

"Anri? She was a lady knight?" Arya had tilted her head, as if she were hearing what Will had said wrong.

"Aye, and a fearsome one at that, and we had saved each other's arses many times. We found Aldrich in the middle of devouring Gwyndolin, and at one point Aldrich knocked me into some black sinking substance. It was the first time since I had become… Me, that I thought I was actually going to die. Anri killed Aldrich, she shoved a torch through his gooey centre and we watched him melt."

Arya was eyeing William once more. "What happened to Anri, if I may ask?"

"That is a tale for another time, Arya. Ask another question."

"Why are you glowing? You weren't glowing in Winterfell." 

"Again, Arya, I must stress this to you, do not tell anyone of what we speak of today."

"I promise, Will. I won't tell anyone."

William sighed once more before looking out towards the Ruby Ford once more. It was a beautiful place they had found, the water reflected the bright shine from the sun that was beating down on both Arya and Will.

"Just before I landed here in Westoros, I had fought a being called the Soul of Cinder, the most powerful and dangerous being I had ever encountered. But before that, I was charged with either bringing back five great men, five lords who had the power to save my world, but they had abandoned their duties, and it was up to me to fix it. Yhorm the Giant, Aldrich, The Abysswatchers, Prince Lothric and Lorian. They shirked their duties and I killed them, and I could feel the world turn to the worse for it. Soon enough, I was taken to the Soul of Cinder, and he was an amalgamation of all five Lords put together, and I defeated it. My… sister was with me, and she offered herself to keep the Soul alive, with the cost of giving her life. Before she could, I took her hand and shared the burden, yet as I fought all the beasts and monstrosities throughout Lothric, I could feel myself becomg stronger and more powerful, I was using powers I had never encountered before, killing beasts at keast one hundred times larger and more fiercer than myself."

"As interesting as that is, that doesn't explain why you glow." Arya dead-panned.

"I defeat legendary beasts like Demons and Lords and Fighters, my soul is put together slightly and that is the glow. The glow is me becoming whole again."

William rolled up the sleeves on his tunic before eventually deciding to take the thing off so he could show Arya the extent of what had happened to him. Not just the fire inside him, but what he had gone through.

She was surprisingly mature about it, which was what surprised Will. She watched intently as the glow in Will's veins as the fire lit up and died down over and over again, before looking at the marks, bruises and scars that decorated William's body.

"What was that one for?" Arya pointed to the scar that went all around Will's waist.

"I got cut in half."

"Your lying." 

"I'm not. I really did. You think if I was lying I would be telling you that I was lying?"

"No, because you'd be dead."

"Exactly."

The day had continued to go slowly, very slowly. Arya and William continued telling tales of their adventures, most of which were William's when he was still adventuring throughout Lothic, Lordran and Drangleic. They were definitely interesting to say the least.

"I should have asked earlier, but considering my little problems, I never got the chance. I know that you are not like your sister at all, you're both completely different. I am willing to train you in secret, if you would allow me to."

Arya had a look of shock on her face, she was being asked if she wanted to be trained to fight, just like she had always wanted. William placed his hand in his bag and pulled out two blunted short-swords, throwing one at Arya, watching with a smirk as he threw it at her, watching her fail as she tried to catch it.

"We won't train until you learn to catch the sword." William stated.

"But catching a sword doesn't have anything to do with training!"

"True, but it does help you focus. Focus is the most important thing on the battlefield, because you need to learn to block and parry attacks all based on instinct, and these people are going to be trying to kill you. You need to focus on killing them first. So focus on the sword, and catch it."

It took a few more tries before Arya was already starting to catch the sword successfully. By that time it was already in the late afternoon, and some of the Stark guards had found them training by the ford, but had promised Will to keep quiet. Will did eventually see some progress with Arya, and he soon knew that her proficiency was with the short-sword and dagger.

"My princess can drink as much as she wants..." William heard over the clashing of steel, it was a voice he couldn't really forget.

 **Joffrey…**

"I'll have you, little wolf!" Will looked up, finding Sansa with her hand intertwined with Joffrey's. "Ow!" He yelled when he felt Arya slam him with the blunted sword.

"Arya?" Sansa said, looking at Arya suspiciously before Arya turned around.

"What are you doing here? Go away!"

"Your sister, my lady?" Joffrey asked, with Sansa nodding in confirmation."And who are you?"

"A Knight, who are you?" Will asked, he knew perfectly well who he was, he just wanted to get a rise out of the Prince.

"I am your Crown Prince! You shall address me as such!" Joffrey squealed. "Besides, if you are a Knight, let's see if how good you are then, draw your sword."

Joffrey moved to be in front of Sansa, as if he were going to protect her from the man that was supposed to be protecting her. He drew his ornate castle-forged sword and held it in his hand, waiting for Will to draw his own.

"Go on! Draw!" Joffrey yelled.

"You can have the first hit."

Joffrey took this literally, and swung his sword recklessly as if he were trying to cut William down the middle. William could feel the heat in his body begin to light up as Joffrey swung his sword, and it seemed like time had begun to slow to a crawl.

 **You do this and he will tell someone…**

 **Yeah, but I want to see his face when I break his sword with my hands…**

 **Good point, do it…**

As time began to go back to how it normally was, William's hand began to heat up and turn charcoal black, with little veins of bright orange flame floating through the stone flesh. William caught the sword strike, his embered hand holding the cold steel still in the air, and he watched as the enflamed veins begin to travel down the blade of the sword, and Will looked at Joffrey's sword and at the prince himself with a smirk of delight, watching as Joffrey pulled the sword away and tried to swing again, only to receive a swift kick to the knee, flooring him. Will wrenched the sword away from the moaning prince on the ground, heating the blade up to it's melting point before punching the scorching blade, watching as the steel shattered into thousands of pieces.

"You cunt!" Joffrey screamed. "I'll have you and your wolf bitch killed for that."

"Be quiet for once in your life, just for once. You are honestly the most pathetic swordsman I have ever met in years, and that is saying something. I feel sorry for Lady Sansa as she has had to watch her 'noble prince' try and attack her sworn shield. I could have killed you, but I would like to keep my head, so I will be kind and do this to you instead.

 _ **SMACK!**_

William slapped Joffrey hard across the face, and watched as his left cheek went bright red. "I am going to tell Mother!" He screamed before running off to Darry.

"That might be the best thing I will ever see in my life." Arya stated, with a massive grin on her face.

William walked over to Sansa, who had instead of watching her prince try and attack her sworn shield, had turned to look over the beautiful Ruby Ford. William stood by her side, with Arya just slightly behind him, holding onto the two blunted swords.

"My Lady, are you alright?" He asked quietly, as if he were speaking in a whisper.

"I… I do not know what I ever saw in him. I thought he would be gallant and heroic, and instead he is a vile and childish little boy. He tried to kill you, and he may have succeeded, and he may have even killed my sister. I don't know what to do."

"Promise me and your sister that you will tell the truth when the King and Queen ask for it. You saw what happened, and you cannot lie to the King. Do it for me, and if not for me, for your sister and for your family." 

Sansa looked as if she were on the verge of tears, she didn't want to betray her prince, but her family would have to come first on that occasion.

"Alright, but we need to tell Father what has happened first. Would it be alright if I stayed with you whilst we are on the road to King's Landing, I don't think Joffrey will welcome my presence anymore."

"You are always welcome to join me, as long as you can ride a horse." William stated, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Of course, I can ride a horse, just not as good as Arya can..." 

"So you admit I'm a better rider than you?" Arya asked, a smug grin on her face.

"Fine, yes I admit it."

Arya burst out laughing, and from the Ruby Ford to Darry, it sounded like she wouldn't stop laughing even if she was to go to sleep or even get knocked out.

 **Gods, what have I done to deserve the fate of having to put up with the two she-wolves?**


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Your Word Against Mine

Will and Arya had rushed to the horses, quickly untying them, with Arya riding off quickly back to the Castle Darry. Will jumped aboard Cinder and looked at Sansa, who was looking at Will like she had no idea what he was doing.

"Where are you going? Are you leaving me here alone?" Sansa asked.

"Of course not, My Lady, besides, I said I would be your shield against enemies, so I will shield as if my life depends on it. Now, take my hand."

William was busy shouldering the bottomless bag, attempting to become comfortable as he sat in the saddle. Sansa slowly lifted her hand towards William, and he grabbed at the fabric of her dress and pulled roughly, lifting her up and sitting her in front of him on the saddle. She looked at him, with the shock clear on her face.

"You almost tore my dress!"

"You should be worrying more about Joffrey more than the dress! Hyah!" Will yelled, as he stirred the courser into action as the jet black horse tore through the wind and rain.

Sansa had obviously never been used to riding a horse in the rain, and the amount of screams and shouts really gave it away. To Will, it was like a vacation to some land that was never cursed, as it had been years since he had ever felt the cold droplets against his face. It simply felt amazing, and it felt even better when he realised the fire in his veins had begun to die out as they reached Castle Darry, rushing through the tents attempting to find the flags with the howling direwolf on it. It didn't take long before they ended up meeting with Lord Stark, his retinue of guards behind him with Arya by his side.

"Oh, thank the gods, where were you?" He asked as he moved forward to the castle.

"Just by the Ruby Ford, Joffrey attacked us and I defended both Arya and Sansa, as was my duty. I swear on my life, I am not lying, the Crown Prince attacked us." 

William hopped down from his horse, grabbing Sansa by the hips and lifting her from the saddle before a Darry stable-boy took Cinder to the stables, and Sansa was persistent in staying close to William, who as he marched into the Darry main hall, had his hand on his sword as soon as he realised that the Stark retinue was outnumbered by the Lannister retinue, The Hound stood tall, his hand also moving slowly towards his own sword.

"I'm sorry Ned." Robert was the first to speak, his voice gruff, tired and very disgruntled. "I didn't want to bring us here on this night, but it is best to get through all of this business quickly."

 **Everything had been going completely fine until we got to Darry, Will. No food shortages and no bandit attacks until we began to fucking ember!**

"And what business would that be, Your Grace?" Ned asked, his face had a look of ice as he spoke, and even his voice followed suit as he said icily.

Queen Cersei was the next to speak after she took a few steps forward to bring the attention to her as she spoke. "You know full well, Lord Stark. That wild girl of yours and her mercenary friend of yours attacked my son. That monster you call a 'sworn shield' almost broke my son's jaw!"

"And having the Hound as your child's sworn shield is any better?" Ned replied, watching as the Hound drew his sword and marched forward towards Lord Stark.

William pushed Lord Eddard behind him, with the Stark retinue circling their lord and his children, with William front and center, as he drew one of Gotthard's swords.

"Moving out of the way, now!" The Hound roared, his armour rattling as he walked, but William did not move.

"Sheath your blade now! Sheathe it, dog!" William spat back., as he drew his other twinsword, with both of the swords now unsheathed, with William ready to launch himself at the Hound.

The soldiers had spread out quickly, with one Lannister soldier being too close as the Hound's sword sliced through his throat, causing blood to splatter all over The Hound's burnt face. William quickly ducked to avoid having his head cut off, before reeling his fist back, smacking Clegane in the face. The Hound stopped, steadied himself before looking down at the smaller man in front of him, who had just gave him a hard punch to the face.

"Is that the best you can do, whoreson?" Clegane muttered.

"You don't want to see what I can do to you, Clegane. Do not make me show you."

"Do your worst."

Clegane went for a vertical slice, as if he were attempting to slice William in two, from brain to balls. William quickly sidestepped to the left of the massive soldier, quickly stabbing the least armoured part of Clegane's foot with both of the swords, before marching behind the towering man and giving him a harsh kick to the back of the knee, watching with a smile as The Hound crumpled to his knees.

"Back to business then?"

The room was silent, even as Clegane tore the two swords from his foot and limped off to a room to lick his wounds. The room slowly went back to business, the Stark soldiers slowly letting Lord Stark, Arya and Sansa back to the centre of the room, with William stood just beside them. He noticed that Queen Cersei was no longer looking at him with anger, but with interest more than anything. It was as if she just forgotten about the fight that just happened right in front of her.

"I am your prince! I was attacked by the little bitch and her bodyguard!" Joffrey screeched.

"Liar! And he isn't my bodyguard! He is Sansa's sworn shield, who you attacked!" Arya spat back.

"Shut up!"

"QUIET!"

The room went silent, King Robert's voice echoed throughout the hall, the voices of Lannisters, Starks and Baratheons slowly going quiet. "Arya, you will tell me your side of the story and then I will ask for Joffrey's, but know it is crime to lie in front of the king."

Arya began to speak, and she spoke the whole truth aside from what Will had made her promise not to say. She spoke of how she was busy training alongside Sir Will with the short-swords before Sansa and Joffrey arrived. She then began to speak of how Joffrey challenged Sir Will to a duel, but spoke of how William declined to draw his sword and let Joffrey have the first hit. She finally finished by lying, saying that Will threw Joffrey's sword in the water instead of breaking it.

"Go on then, boy, your turn." 

Prince Joffrey began to pale as he started recounting his story when they were near the Ruby Ford. He told his own side of the story, completely embellished and full of lies, accusing Will and Arya of ambushing himself and Sansa before they attacked him, and he ended it by saying William broke his sword. Even while he was speaking, Joffrey could not find it in himself to even look at his father, his king, in the eye, he couldn't even make the lie seem real.

"What am I to make of this then? He says one thing and she says another." Robert's eyes locked onto Sansa, who meekly stood next to her father.

"Lady Sansa, you were there with these three, weren't you?" Robert asked.

"Y-y-yes, Your Grace. I was." She stated.

"And tell me, without lying, who here is telling the truth? My son, or your sister?"

Sansa went quiet for a while, but she was thinking about her options, and the look on her face made it clear.

"Just tell the truth, little dove." Cersei cooed, as she attempted to coerce Sansa with a serious look with a small smile.

 **Please, just tell the truth Sansa. Just tell the truth…**

"My sister is telling the truth, My King. I watched as Joffrey challenged Sir William, who was obviously his better, and Sir William skilfully disarmed the prince and threw his sword into the ford. He called me and Arya..."

"You can stop now, Lady Sansa." William murmured. "My King, you have heard Lady Sansa's testimony and you have heard the truth from all of us, what are we to do?" William asked.

"The Starks can go back to their camp, so can the Lannister troops, I want to see Clegane and my little shit of a son in the morning before we leave!"

William breathed a sigh of relief, with Eddard leading the Stark retinue outside of the castle back to the camp, with William just behind them, watching Cersei before he left, catching her give a sly wink towards him.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: King's Landing

After the drama at Castle Darry, the rest of the trip to King's Landing had been extremely uneventful. Joffrey had taken to hiding with his mother inside of the oversized carriage that the soldiers were protecting. William was thankful for his reduced presence, he felt like every time he had heard the prince's voice, he could feel his ears begin to bleed.

 **Be thankful that Sansa told the truth at Darry, otherwise we wouldn't have heard the end of it…**

William knew he was risking a lot, by letting Arya know about his past, but he knew that any of the Stark children would find out sooner or later, and so far she had kept the information. Sansa had been a lot more quiet, and had kept close to Arya and William, always following them, but not arguing with Arya, which was a welcome change considering how many arguments they had been in for the short time William had been in Winterfell.

William had once again taken to telling the pair of them stories of what he had been doing before he had arrived. The first tale he told the girls was of Knight Artorias and the Great Grey Wolf, Sif. William had nearly been reduced to tears as he recounted the time where he had to fight them both. William had always looked up to Artorias, he was the knight that all knights aspired to be, and from Will's time in Westoros, he had not seen many knights that were following that example, or their version of it.

 **Barristan Selmy and maybe Arys Oakheart…**

Somehow he had managed to make Arya shed a few tears as well, and Sansa had started crying as soon as he had finished.

 _ **X-X-X**_

 _Will had managed to make it so far, and Oolacile had been one of the most challenging areas he had ever been in. He had from heard from various other men and women that Artorias and his wolf had gone to save Princess Dusk from the Abyss and its hordes. Will eventually met a man named Marvellous Chester who had told him:_

' _Oolacile has brought the Abyss upon itself. Fooled by that toothy serpent, they upturned the grave of primeval man, and incited his ornery wrath...'_

 _It took William a while before he realised who Chester could have been talking about. The Primordial Serpents, it could have been Kingseeker Frampt, it could have been Darkstalker Kaathe, or it could have even both of them, but the chances of that were extremely low because of the serpents' differing views of the first flame._

 _Soon enough, William had defeated the hordes of the Abyss that had plagued Oolacile, although he could not say that it would be the same as before. The sorcerers that had created the unique miracles and spells of Oolacile had gone, either fleeing or dead. The Abyss had already taken over most of the kingdom, and if Princess Dusk was even alive, she would be a ruler of rubble._

 _The hardest part was the end, as it always had been. Will had marched into a location that looked awfully similar to a fighting pit, with an armoured figure knelt in the middle of the arena, clutching a sword. William turned to see the man more clearly, and could see the sword being raised again, only to be thrust downwards into another creature, the thing giving out a cry of horrific pain before dying._

 _William could see the torn blue cloth flying in the wind, just being kept in place by the man's cold steel armour. The man raised his head and turned to William._

" _Wherever thou art, stay away! You are strong, human. Your are proof that mankind are more than pure Dark. I beg of you, the spread of the Abyss… It must be stopped! Soon, I will be consumed..."  
_

 _William soon realised that after the man had spoke his piece, it was no mere man, no regular knight. It was Knight Artorias. The legendary warrior had gone to Oolacile to rescue Princess Dusk, but somehow he had been defeated. William could hear the dark echoes and growls in his voice, the rising anger and hatred in his words. Artorias was still alive, but he was not in control. He was corrupted, by the Abyss._

 _He let out a primal scream, a scream filled to the brim with pain, sadness and anger. A black mist had begun to seep into the cracks and crevices of Artorias' armour, almost threatening to rise him up in the air and break him in two. He jumped in the air spun around, raising his greatsword over his right shoulder, the dead creature still impaled on the sword. William could just notice that Artorias' was missing his shield, and then looked again as he realised that Artorias' left arm was dangling lifelessly, broken and useless._

" _Ah, Sif, there you are. All of you, forgive me. For I have availed you nothing..."_

 _Artorias leaped into the air, with William just barely dodging Artorias' sword and he watched as the sword slammed into the ground where William once stood._

" _RAAAAAAAARGH!"  
_

 _Artorias threw himself at William, and William could barely keep up with the corrupted knight. It took a while for William to grow accustomed to Artorias and how he fought, and that usually involved Artorias kicking him and watching as he flew through the air into the wall multiple times._

 _Artorias and William's steel clashed over and over again, and it felt like the fight would never end, as both knights landed hits on the other, blocking attacks and parrying them, hoping to gain the edge over the other as they attempted to end the other. Soon Artorias jumped back, doing sideways flips as he went over to the far wall, giving a loud roar as the dark mist filled him again._

 _Artorias leaped up the wall and pushed himself off the wall, throwing himself at William for the very last time, as William side-stepped Artorias, chopping off the limp arm, causing Artorias to scream out in pain, before looking at William and saying his final words._

" _Please, forgive me..." He whispered, dropping his sword._

" _Do not apologise, good knight, this was never your fault..." William replied._

 _Artorias gave a final nod, and William twirled his sword in his hand, before taking a deep breath and plunging the sword into Artorias' neck, pulling it out quickly and swiftly decapitating the corrupted knight._

 _ **X-X-X**_

"Will, are you alright?" Lord Stark asked him, as he dropped from his horse, looking at him.

Will shook his head before dismounting Cinder, letting one of the royal stable-hands take the courser away from him. "Yes, my lord. I was just thinking of another time."

"Ah, I see."

Eddard had tried to coax some other information about Lothric from William, but had never really succeeded, but had managed to get at least a small summary of what had happened in Lothric. The lands converged, with multiple kingdoms coming together to make one, which would happen to be Lothric. Other than that, Eddard knew little.

"Come with me, Sir. I need to meet the small council before we go to our rooms and unpack."

 **Will, you do realise we still need to tell him about how we are going to leave him and his daughters in this shithole?**

 **Yeah, I know, but we will leave when they leave, and maybe when we find Anna we can return and start again in Winterfell, it would be a lot more easier than how we lived in Lothric.**

 **Or you could live as a mercenary, live how you want, be your own man, travel this new world!**

 **If you wanted to, you could even…**

 **Take the Crown…**

That voice he did not like, the voice that William was always afraid to hear, though it barely spoke, it made its presence known when it did speak. When William had fell down into the Dark Chasm when he was exploring Drangleic, he came across a being he had no intention of wishing to meet again.

 **It That Lurks…**

 **Don't listen to it, it will drive you mad!**

 **He wants to make you the most powerful man in the kingdoms, you could have everything!**

 **He wants to live as you, not to help you! Don't listen to him Will!**

Will could remember perfectly what had happened when he fell into the Dark Chasm, as he woke up he could feel an immense presence of dread and despair, as if he had fell into the very heart of the Abyss. He could feel a presence that used to be one of light and hope, now crushed and filled with darkness and death.

From what he had heard, travellers called whatever lurked down there, the Darklurker, some had not even mentioned its name, merely calling it 'It That Lurks'.

The dark figure hovered above the ground, the white angelic wings decaying as the feathers began to drop off and fall to the floor, a greyish hood covering its face, arms crossed as it peered into William's very soul.

' _ **Did you really think leaving our world would make me leave you?'**_

' _ **Did you really think you could escape me?'**_

' _ **Did you think you could always think you could escape the Father of the Abyss?'**_

' _ **DID YOU THINK YOU COULD ESCAPE THE DARK?'**_

William gave it out a scream of intense pain, falling to his knees, clutching at his head as the voices got louder and louder. He could see his vision blurring, and the last thing he could see was Sansa and Arya toward him before he fell to the floor, unconscious.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11: Waking Up in King's Landing

From what William could remember, he definitely remembered that he did not faint inside of a nice and warm bed, no, he fainted under the glaring heat of the south, falling down onto the hard concrete of the floor just as the Stark retinue were escorted to their new quarters.

Fainting had never been a common occurrence to Will, the only other time he could remember fainting was when he had been taken straight from Yhorm, and thrown in front of the Dancer of the Boreal Valley. Two straight fights with giants almost ten times the size of William himself. He fainted right after he placed the sacrificial bowl in front of the statue of the knight who had seemed to be beheading himself, then he fell to the floor and slept. He soon woke up to see the chapel-like area had gone and been set on fire. He then climbed the ladder and made his way through the rest of Lothric Castle.

William picked himself up from the bed, dressing himself in some simple riding leathers so he didn't cook himself to death inside his plate armour. He could feel his head begin to pound slightly, and he looked for something to keep the pounding in his head to a minimum. He didn't succeed in the endeavour, and opened the door into the main room, where he could see Eddard, Sansa, and Arya breaking their fast.

William could smell the recently cooked food, and could just hear his stomach begin to growl. "Please tell me we have some spare bacon..." He mumbled, as he took a seat, poured himself a cup of water and downed it one go.

"Are you alright, lad? We didn't know what had happened when you fainted. We had the Grand Maester take a look at you and he said it was just the reaction to the heat." Eddard said.

"I'll tell you later. Anyway, how long was I asleep?"

"Three days." Arya replied, scoffing down some toasted bread.

 **Well, fuck…**

 **Hey, it could have been a lot worse…**

 **It already is worse! Did you not hear the voice?! The voice that could still be with us!**

The voice was different, it always sounded grim and full of despair, and always seemed to take pleasure when Will was in pain, or in grief. When the voice spoke, it sent the others into hysterics, it echoed and echoed in William's head, sometimes being completely silent, almost making William forget that existed until the worst possible moment, always shouting over the other voices, making its presence known once again.

"And what did I miss?" William asked, picking at the leftovers that Eddard had handed over to him, most of it being the bacon and burnt bread.

"Many things. King Robert has decided to have a tourney for naming me his right hand, and some other things that should be talked about in private.

"Father, we can leave you if you need to talk to William in private." Said Sansa.

"Thank you, child. Go on, just make sure you keep safe."

"We will, don't worry Father." Arya replied as she walked off with her older sister.

Will and Eddard were left alone at the table, the guards and servants left to serve some of the others in the other rooms. Eddard looked pale, and he was sweating too. He almost looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Well, what did you find out?" William asked, taking a bite out of some bacon.

"Well, I found out that Robert's brothers are at each others throats once more, which is not really surprising. I also found out that one of the brothers, Stannis, left King's Landing for a reason I do not know. I have tried to contact him with ravens but he has not replied since. The crown treasury is empty, and is six million dragons in debt, to the Sept, to the Lannisters, Iron Bank and also the Tyroshi Cartels."

"What."

"I'm not finished. Just before we left Winterfell we received a letter from Cat's sister, Lady Lysa of the Eyrie. She had just lost her who was the previous Hand. We believed that it was just her grief talking at first but now I'm not so sure. Jon Arryn, her husband, was a personal friend of mine, and I'll be damned if I don't find out who killed him."

"Do you have anyone you think did it?" William asked.

"The Lannisters. I have met Tywin, and I believe that Queen Cersei is just like her father. They are a family of schemers, liars and plotters. I don't trust them, and neither should you."

"I don't, My Lord. I can barely stand to be around them, especially the elder prince."

"Neither do I. I am going to talk to Robert to see if I can get the arrangement dissolved and maybe see if Robb could marry Myrcella." Eddard groaned, placing his head in his hands.

"She's a bit young isn't she?"

"It would be better than knowing that my first daughter is being tortured and abused by that loathsome creature."

"Very true, my lord." 

William could tell that Lord Stark was not looking forward to his new role as the Hand of the King, He had told William of the Small Council, how the only competent members of the council seemed to be the Master of Whispers, Varys, and the Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish. From what Lord Stark had told him, the two were both extremely dangerous men, each of them having their own legions of spies, knowing every secret inside the Red Keep.

"Uh, I may be speaking out of place, and the idea may not even succeed but I have an idea for a ship, something that might be even better than whatever the Lannisters have." 

"A ship? But we don't have a Master of Ships, Will."

"Let me be the unofficial one for now, in secret, I can be able to take some builders and some other individuals that maybe able to arm the ship. If I do this, the North could finally have its own fleet."

"And what is the name of the new ship you have a plan to construct?" Eddard asked.

"The Man of War." 

_**X-X-X**_

"Do you think William will be alright?" Sansa asked.

"Yeah, well, he better be. He can't just drop dead, he's only just started training me." Arya replied.

"Well, he's my sworn shield, and I don't want him to be hurt."

"Sansa, did you see what he did by the Ruby Ford? Did you see what he did to Joffrey's sword when he threatened him?" Arya asked.

"His hands, his face, it was like he was made out of pure flames. He broke his sword and threw it into the water."

"Exactly," Arya replied. "If anyone is going to be hurt, it definitely won't be Will. You worry too much."

What Arya said was true, in every way. Sansa worried about everything, whilst Arya never worried about anything, she didn't have a care in the world, all she cared about was not being called a lady. Sansa cared about everyone and everything, her singing, her sowing, how she looked and how she acted. The pair of them were complete opposites of the other, yet after what had happened at the Ford, they had began to be more like sisters instead of sibling rivals.

"Are you looking forward to the tourney?" Arya asked.

"Of course I am, what a stupid question to ask!" Said Sansa.

"I'm sorry I asked now."

"Do you think William will take part?" Sansa asked.

"I doubt it, but if he does he'll probably take part in the melee. That one seems to be the one that William would most enjoy. I doubt jousting is something he would do." Arya replied, pondering whether Will would actually take part in any part of the tournament. 

"Oh, I always thought that he'd do both. I still have yet to see him fight, but if he is anything like he was at the Ford, well, he seems to have an unfair advantage."

If anything, Arya was not even concerned about the tourney at all, she was more worried if she would still be able to continue her training with William, apparently she had a 'natural disposition' when it came to using the short-sword, at least that was what he had said, she had no idea what a 'natural disposition' was.

Sansa desperately wanted to see the tourney. It would be her first time to an actual Southron tourney , with all the houses from places like the Stormlands, Westerlands and the Reach offering up a few knights to take part. It would have made her day if House Stark's own knight won instead.

 **Please Will, please join the lists and win, I'd give anything to see the looks on their faces...**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: The Man of War

William had a bit of trouble trying to find the way of building the new ship design in secret, especially considering when any of the shipbuilders could have been spies in the possession of either Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish, or the Master of Whispers, Lord Varys. He had two of the Stark soldiers constantly watching any of the new workers just in case their loyalties were in doubt, and quite a few were caught, to be made quiet at extreme discretion.

Back in Astora, there was not much time where Will spent much time on a ship, and when it was, he was usually the most unlikely and unlucky positions where he would end up. At first, he was just a regular deck rat, cleaning and reloading the main guns, and then at one point the man that led the men was torn in two by a stray cannonball. He was not missed, for he had usually called the deck rats the 'Rat Vanguard', and after his death, William had no qualms of becoming the new 'Rat Authority'. He was soon given an actual promotion to be the captain of the deck rats, and they didn't have a problem with William, and William did not have a problem with the deck rats.

 **And then the fucking captain died…**

 **And who was left to take over?**

 **The Deck Rat Authority.**

 **Yep, from deck rat to captain in at least six months.**

It didn't really matter much, considering the new captain had arrived back at the port just as 'Captain Redding of the Bloodhound' managed to dock, and then took the position right away from William, making him the first mate because of his outstanding contribution to the Astoran Fleet.

 **Well, lets just say Second In Command was not what we wanted, and the Bloodhound was falling apart, privateering was more of our thing anyway…**

Needless to say, William soon had command of his ship, _The Retribution._ The brigantine had only two decks, but it made up for it in speed and raw firepower. The adventures of Captain Redding and the Bloodhound soon became a legend, well, at least before the Bloodhound was destroyed and Captain Redding was 'lost at sea'.

 **Lost at sea being the secondary meaning for 'the ship blew up, Will did not know and was the only survivor because he was thrown overboard.' Yeah, it could have been worse. Were you expecting any different?**

Anyway, the crew had been chosen and most of it, if not all of the crew were all loyal to the House of Stark, well, most of them were at least Stark aligned. Maybe around a quarter of the new crew members were either bored former sailors and decided to join 'out of the kindness of their hearts' or cheap mercenaries.

The first deck had been fully completed, with each side of the ship having twenty five guns on each side, with a grand total of one hundred guns on the third and second decks, and around fifteen guns on the top deck on each side. How long it would take for the cannons to be fitted, only the seven knew, but it would probably either be him loaning more money from Littlefinger, and he wouldn't be helping the debt situation anyway, so he might as well have taken advantage of the situation.

 **Well, the situation could not have been any better. Well, he was the unofficial master of ships…**

The situation actually wasn't the worst he had been in. There was always the time where he would have been ambushed by the Throne Watcher and Throne Defender, and then Nashandra right afterwards. Death had become more an annoyance than an awful consequence for not paying attention to what was happening around him, usually the stray decaying scythe that cut him in half well before he could dodge out of the way.

What seemed to be the best thing about the entire situation was that the shipbuilders that were loyal to him had already found a quiet place where they could have built the ship in relative privacy, that and the fact that the ship was already a quarter complete, and the second deck was also nearing completion, the rest of the ship soon to be done in at least a few weeks, and at the most maybe a month or two.

 **Doesn't help that I essentially ostracised myself from the nobility for the sake of building this…**

 **Better not fucking sink…**

William was sat upon the edge of a cliff overlooking the cove where the warship was being secretly built. He was not used to the secrecy at all, he was more of a war-hammer character, or an attack dog, maybe a mix of both of them. He stared at the Narrow Sea, and could just barely see the ants that were his workers milling about going in and out of the cove, bringing in materials or going to get pissed off their heads at the nearest tavern.

"You look lonely."

"Arya. Come out, wherever you are."

Arya came up from behind Will, the loose boys clothing and her relatively short hair blowing slightly in the cold winds. She was carrying a small, needle-like sword on her hip, in lieu of an actual short-sword. She took a seat next to William and started throwing little bits of grass over the edge of the cliff, sighing with boredom.

"Did your father send you here, little wolf?"

"Nah, I just felt like following you. See what you were up to." Arya replied, sighing.

"Are you lying?"

"Maybe." 

"You're lying, aren't you?"

William gave a dead-eyed stare at the little girl who was sat next to him, and the kept the stare focused on her until she broke.

"Father told me to see what was happening with 'William's special assignment'. So, what is going on?"

 **Well, at least she is forward about it…**

"Your father has nothing to worry about, the assignment is a quarter complete, and soon will be half complete."

"Are you going to talk to me about it? Tell me what the assignment is?"

"Nope."

And with that, he walked off with Arya in tow until they reached the Red Keep, where she kept asking about the project until she was taken away by Septa Mordane.

 _ **X-X-X**_

"Have you thought about joining the tourney?" Jaime asked him.

In the meantime when William had nothing to when it came to either actually helping build the warship, of which he could not figure out of a suitable name. It got so bad where sparring with the Jaime Lannister was the only actual way of passing the time without falling on his sword.

"I think your tournaments and my tournaments are quite different, Ser Jaime." Will replied.

The clashing of swords made the common silences between them a bit more entertaining, and Ser Jaime had still not managed to be any better than the Ruin Sentinels, not for lack of trying. Being on the par with the three Ruin Sentinels was good for a regular man, not so much compared to William himself though.

"How bad could it be? Unless your scared of flying off your horse?" Jaime taunted, kicking at William's legs, downing him.

The blunted blades were not exactly stopping both the Kingslayer and the Ashen Champion from going all out in the sparring, both of them using kicks, punches, elbows and the occasional smash with the sword hilts, bruises and scrapes and scratches were aplenty on the both of them. Well, that was until the both of them came to a draw, with wooden swords pointed at their necks.

"Not scared, it's just that when I fight, I fight for real. I don't fight for coin or for the roar of the crowds. I'm not even going to give some shit excuse about how fighting is hell, because I actually enjoy fighting."

"Then why don't you try it?" 

"What?"

William had his eyebrow raised as Jaime took the swords and handed them to the master-at-arms, before handing William his twin-swords and as he began to strap his own sword to his hip.

"Try it, try fighting for the roar of the crowd. It is nothing like you have ever felt before."

"I might give it a try." William spoke reluctantly. 

"Might?"

"Fine, I will."

 _ **X-X-X**_

Sansa had been excited ever since her father had told there would be a royal tourney in honour of her father's appointment as the Hand of the King. She had gotten so excited that she needed to keep track of the days until the tourney began. She would have gotten to see the knights in their resplendent and unsoiled armour, that shone as the sun cast its gaze upon the knights and there horses.

Sansa, Jeyne, and the septa had taken a seat at the front, with her father sitting reluctantly next to her. She knew that her father was reluctant about having a tourney in his name, but Sansa could never know why. Her father had never been a supporter of having lavish and extravagant events in his name. He always upheld his duty, that was what her mother said. Even when sometimes he would fail, he would always try his hardest.

Sansa held her breath as the knights had came onto the field, the horses neighing and whinnying as they carried their knights just across from the jousting field. The Kingsguard were all dressed in scaled armour, the colour of milk, instead of their regular golden coloured armour. The only man in golden armour was Ser Jaime Lannister, and he shined from head to toe, his helm the shape of the roaring lion. Even his sword was gold!

The girls took a liking as they looked upon the field of flags and sigils of the varying different noble houses of Westoros. Fields of red, purple, and black, and varying items and animals like falcons, lions, and nightingales.

The bugles ran out and the crowd soon went quiet and took their seats, and the announcer yelled out the names of the first two challengers. One knight caught her eye as he rode upon a jet black horse, with small little streaks and splotches or orange and red on the body, and a bright orange stripe ran down the horses face. Sansa could recognise the horse, but she could not place the owner, but she could definitely say for certain that the horse always seemed both feral, yet domesticated.

The rider of the horse looked like he had torn through the pages of one of the scarier tales that Old Nan had told her when she was younger. The rider wore what looked like cast iron armour, with most of the armour being covered with some heavy iron plate, but it also managed to show the complex, intricate, and the almost serpentine carvings and markings on the armour. The helm technically was not even a helm, it was a cast iron mask, almost made in the shape of a king.

"For the first tilt! The Knight of Iron and Ser Meryn Trant!"

Meryn Trant took to the left side of the jousting field and the Knight of Iron took to the right, and the black and cinder-like horse began to rear up on his hind legs and start whinnying. Sansa looked at Jeyne after she looked at the eager horse.

"Do you think the horse is alright?" Jeyne asked.

"The horse is probably just nervous, most likely its first ever tilt." Mordane interrupted.

"Looks can be deceiving." Said the crafty-looking man sat behind her, his stony grey eyes and the black and grey speckled beard gave him a wise, yet almost deceptive look, as if he oozed suspicion. "I bet one hundred gold dragons on the Knight of Iron." The shifty-looking man said.

"You'd be an idiot to bet that much on a hedge knight." Said the man beside him, who happened to be Prince Renly, who Sansa had not personally talked to yet, she only knew because of Father.

Sansa turned away from the 'friendly' argument, and watched as the two horses (and knights) neighed and roared as they began to gallop into each other. She watched in amazement as the 'first-time jouster' smashed his lance straight onto Meryn Trant's chest, and in an explosion of splinters he was forced from his horse.

"Whoever that is, he is definitely not a first time jouster." Jeyne barely managed to gasp out.

He went on to beat two more of the Kingsguard Knights, Ser Boros Blount and Ser Arys Oakheart, and he successfully made it into the quarter finals, where he would be fighting whoever won of either Ser Hugh of the Vale, or Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides.

 **Please be Hugh, please be Hugh, please be Hugh….**

Just before that match-up, the next matches were Jaime Lannister destroying both Royce knights, and Ser Loras Tyrell, The Knight of Flowers devastating the Redwyne Twins and Ser Balon Swann. After Ser Loras' final bout, he rode over to the noble spectator stands and handed a red rose to her.

"Your beauty is unmatched, my lady." Ser Loras spoke. "But this flower may add some candles to it." 

The knight cast her a smile that would have made her faint before he rode off. "Thank you, Ser Loras." She managed to bluster out, breathless and with a blush on her cheeks.

Then the most dreadful thing had happened in one of the tilts. Ser Hugh of the Vale, the youngest knight in the tourney, was felled by Ser Gregor Clegane. The Mountain had rammed the tip fo his lance straight through the young knight's throat. He had fell right in front of the stands where Sansa, Jeyne and Mordane were sat. They could only watch as they saw Ser Hugh gargling and grasping at the chunk of wood lodged violently in his neck.

Sansa could've swore that she smelt, and could even taste the blood, yet she could not look away.

The entire field was silence, and the audiences, both nobility and peasantry were either gasping or screaming in shock as the knight kept grasping at his throat, attempting to tear out the wood in his jugular. Soon the Knight of Iron leapt off his mount and drew a small blade, his emotions hidden away by his cast iron mask.

When he reached him, the Iron Knight knelt next to Ser Hugh, who had grasped the cast iron armour by the breastplate and forced him to listen to whatever words were being uttered between the gasps and gurgles. The words were too quiet for anyone to hear but Hugh and the Iron Knight. Eventually, the young knight nodded as it seemed like the Iron Knight asked him what he would do.

Sansa gasped as the Iron Knight plunged his dagger into Ser Hugh's heart, killing him quickly. Her eyes wide with shock, and Sansa was unable to believe what had just unfolded in front of her very eyes. Even more so when the Iron Knight ordered a litter for the dead knight before marching away and mounting his courser.

Jeyne was inconsolable when the debacle had finally ended. She was crying so much that Septa Mordane had to escort her away from the jousting, leaving her alone with her father. The body was taken and life had returned to the field like the death of Ser Hugh had never even occurred.

 **How can everyone just ignore what has happened? The Mountain just killed someone!**

Ser Jaime and Ser Loras took to the field, and everyone watched, hawk-eyed and silent as the two infamous knights clashed. The two knights charged, and soon Ser Loras' lance smashed into Jaime's chest, forcing the Kingslayer from his saddle, with a massive roar and applause from the crowds. Ser Loras gave a small smile to Sansa before turning back to where some of the former jousters had stood before they were eliminated from the competition.

Soon, the Knight of Iron took to the field against Ser Gregor Clegane. The two massive knights looked like they would have broken their horses if they (or their armour) were any heavier. The courser and the stallion were rearing up at each other from the other side of the field, and as the trumpet sounded, the horses galloped towards each other, their riders spurring them on as they readied their shields and lances.

What Sansa was not expecting was to see the larger man, The Mountain, fly from his horse like a play doll. The Mountain hit the ground and it felt like the land on which he had fell had cracked under his weight and the weight of his armour.

"Sword!" The Mountain bellowed.

Clegane's squire ran from the tents, a massive oversized great-sword in both of his hands. The Mountain tore the sword from his hands and threw away the sheath. The sword swung violently about, slashing the squire across the chest just barely. Clegane swung his sword again, the balde cleaving through his own horse's neck, decapitating the poor beast before he turned his rage and anger to the Iron Knight. **  
**

 **This is what I get for my first Westorosi tournament, homicidal murderers and green boys….**

The Iron Knight leapt from his saddle, slapped his horse on the backside and began to back away from the maniacal murderer. "Swords!" The knight yelled out, and his young squire who had introduced himself to him earlier in the day, and he had ran faster than ever as the Mountain advanced. The Knight drew his sword from the sheathe, and it began to glow an eerie shade of purple.

 **If it worked for Sulyvahn, hopefully it will work for me…**

It may have looked like a regular sword, with a blade and hilt and pommel and all, but the purple glow already had made it seem like a sword from the legends. If anything, it was a cursed weapon, used by a despicable leader of the Church of the Deep. When Pontiff Sulyvahn held it in his hand, it had glowed a dark blue, almost turning into a complete black. Yet when William took a hold of it, it gave its now purple glow.

"Stay still and die, you little fucking shit!" 

The Mountain threw his sword downwards, just barely missing by an inch as the Iron Knight side-stepped quickly. The Mountain turned to look at the Knight, only to receive a very hard mailed fist to his unprotected face, the knight swore he could have heard The Mountain's nose break because of the power.

The knight then threw an uppercut to The Mountain, flooring him, before slicing through The Mountains's sword, and raised it high to end the psychopathic fiend.

"STOP THIS MADNESS IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!"

Before he could have stabbed The Mountain, he lowered his sword and planted it firmly in the ground before kneeling towards the royal family. The Mountain forced himself up, looked at both the royal family and the knight before he stormed off in anger, the guards surrounding the family keeping their hands on the blades as the enraged warrior tore past them to get to his tent.

The Iron Knight placed his hands upon his helm, and began undoing the clasps around his head before taking off the helm, revealing the head and face of William Redding.

Some of the crowd were shocked, some were not. Some were screaming in excitement, somewhere were holding their breath to see what would happen with the revealed identity of their 'Iron Knight'.

"Sir William, excuse if I never though to see you in a tourney!"

"This would be my first tourney, Your Grace."

"Of course, lad. Yet it seems you've taken to it like a fish takes to water!"

William stood up and pulled the Greatsword of Judgement from the ground, holding it in his hands in front of him. He never thought he would be one to win a Westorosi tourney, let alone enter the tourney at all.

"Thank you for the compliment, my lord." Will said.

"Well, after that amazing display, I believe I have every reason to announce you as the winner of the joust! Somebody, give him the crown!"

Two young ladies walked up to him from his left, holding a crown of bright red roses and, with smaller white roses intertwined with the red ones. They handed him the crown of roses, and giggled when he took it, giving him little smirks and giggles. William almost crushed the thing in his hands, and he had to guess that he was meant to give it to the woman whoever had caught his eye.

 **I think Sansa maybe a little too young, and the Queen is also married. Who?**

 **Just give it to the Queen, get it over and done with…**

William sighed, wiped the sweat from his head and onto the cast iron gauntlet. He climbed the steps to the royal pavilion and looked at both the Queen, and the shy Princess Myrcella.

 **Princess = TOO YOUNG**

William knelt before the Queen and King.

"Before I do this, I just want to make sure that I will not get my head sliced off for what I am about to do." William said.

"Hah! Just give the Queen the crown and say your piece lad!"

The Queen looked at William, and gave a satisfied smile as William bowed his head towards her.

"Your Grace, you are by far the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and the tales I have heard about your beauty have never done you justice. One day, I will travel to everywhere in the known world and even then I doubt I will find a woman anywhere near as beautiful as you."

The Queen gave a wry smile. "I must say that I have never heard such beautiful words from anyone except my husband. I must thank you for your kind words, good Sir." Queen Cersei took the crown and held it to her chest, and when everyone was not looking, she mouthed 'come and see me later' with a sly wink.

Robert stood up from his chair, and William could hear the chair he was sat in begin to groan and creak as he picked himself up, grabbing William by the wrist and as they left the pavilion. He raised his hand to the sky and bellowed.

"The winner of the joust, Sir William Redding!"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: A Golden Crown

Khal Drogo's khalasar had been travelling all over the eastern continent for what seemed like almost six moons. At first, it was just weeks and weeks of grasslands, and Annalise was beginning to feel the pain of riding nearly all day every day. Her hands were beginning to ache terribly, as all she would be doing would be riding next to the Khaleesi all day until they made camp, where she would attempt to try and teach the Khaleesi the crucial lessons of becoming a pyromancer. The process had started off slow, with Annalise attempting to remember everything that she had learned from Cornyx and Karla while she was in Lothric, and soon enough the lessons came flooding back to her, yet some of those memories were not all great.

She could still feel the defilement in the core of her being when she realised a Priestess of Londor had infiltrated her shrine.

She had felt so relieved when Sir William had a duel with the evil woman, but it was so close she had almost thought that William would lose, as if he were destined to come so far to reigniting the flame, but was due to be killed by the woman, who would impale him on the cold steel of her blade, the legendary Darkdrift. She only found out the sword was famous when Will had sliced the woman's head off and looted the sword from her dead corpse.

If Annalise was not teaching the young Targaryen about the ways of pyromancy, she would be telling her of the amazing things that Sir William had done. She was an excellent student, that was for sure. She had soon been deemed trustworthy enough by Anna that she would be told the secret of Anna's origins.

She had handled it amazingly, she never told anyone else. All she had said was that she be careful around her new husband. Apparently the culture of the Dothraki had never trusted anyone with magic, especially witches. Daenerys had told her that from what Drogo had told her, the entire Dothraki culture was built on strength alone, not belief or magic. They worshipped the horse, believing that the one day one man would have the largest khalasar, he would become 'The Stallion Who Mounts the World.'

What Annalise had also began to notice was that the Khal and the Khaleesi were not as they were when they were first married, where the Khaleesi would be a shy and timid young girl who would always obey her Khal, but now she was the fiery Khaleesi who had her Khal at her husband at her beck and call, and the words that Annalise shared with Doreah and Irri was that the Khaleesi almost had as much power as the Khal, but nobody else would say that in front of their Khal.

Well, the last male heir of House Targaryen was infuriated to say the least. Viserys had began to become more and more enraged when it seemed like the chances of him getting his army of Dothraki seemed less and less likely. The Dothraki were not as stupid as they seemed, and they understood exactly what he said once Ser Jorah had translated to them what he was saying. Calling them 'horsefuckers' was not exactly making the Dothraki loyal to his cause. He had attempted to speak to Khal Drogo multiple times, yet each time he was rebuffed by his bloodriders.

Viserys instead had began to drown his sorrows in alcohol and shout at Daenerys to overcome his dying chances of becoming King. At first, it had seemed to have an effect on Daenerys, the little confidence she had begun to build with Doreah and Khal Drogo seemed to die when Viserys had 'unleashed the dragon' as he had called it.

The only other thing that was keeping the Dothraki from crossing the Narrow Sea was that their horses would never drink the saltwater, Daenerys was their only chance of Viserys getting his army.

 _ **X-X-X**_

"So, these Lords of Cinder would have rekindled the flame before?" Daenerys asked.

"Yes, Khaleesi." Anna replied, as she begin to style the Khaleesi's hair. "When Sir William was awoken, the Lords should have awoken too, and returned to their thrones. Yet, it was not to be."

"What do you mean, 'not to be?'"

"The Lords never returned. They awoke and returned to wherever they would have had the most power. The Abysswatchers returned to the Farron Keep, Yhorm returned to his Profaned Capital." 

"So, William was revived to do what they refused to do?" The Khaleesi asked.

"Yes, and he triumphed. If he didn't, I wouldn't be here."

"He sounds like a magnificent man. I would love to meet him one day, if he is here."

The vile man that was Viserys marched into the tent that Anna and Daenerys were in, his hands wrapped around the hair of Doreah as he violently threw her to the ground. His violet eyes were blazing with fury, he was enraged. The dragon had been 'unleashed'.

"You send this whore to give me commands?!" Viserys raged. "I should have sent you back her head!"

"I'm sorry, Khaleesi..." Doreah whispered, before Annalise took her into her arms.

"Hush now, its alright." Anna whispered, as Daenerys knelt down to check her friend before glaring at her brother.

"How dare you! She was under my command! Why did you hit her?!" 

"Because you do not command me!" Viserys shot back.

"I was not commanding you! I was inviting you to supper!" 

Viserys was silent, yet he kept glaring at her as if she had just slapped him across the face. Everyone could tell that he was furious with Daenerys, but that did not matter anymore, she was no longer just Daenerys Targaryen, she was the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, husband to Khal Drogo.

Daenerys walked over to the table which held all of her personal effects, and took the scaled clothing that she had made by some of the other Dothraki women before she handed it to her brother.

"What is this?" He asked, rolling his hand over the material.

"A gift. I had it made for you." Daenerys said, as if she was begging for him to take it.

"Dothraki rags? What are you going to dress me now? This stinks of manure! All of it!" 

"Please, brother, stop it!"

"You would want to turn me into one of them? Wouldn't you? One of the horselords? Next you will want to braid my hair, you slut!"

"You have no right to a braid, you have won no victories yet!"

Once more, Viserys had gone deadly silent. His violet eyes were glazed over with what seemed like layers of pure hatred and disgust as he looked at his sister, who had more power than him. He charged towards his sister, pushing her over and launching a barrage of pathetic slaps to her, as if he were not even trying to hurt her.

"You do not talk back to me!" He yelled. "You are a horselord's slut!" He accused. "Now you've woken the dragon!"

Annalise could not take watching Viserys any more, he was a pathetic little worm, not even worthy to be a speck of dirt on the roads. He always said that he would be the one to show Robert Baratheon who was always the rightful king, and he always boasted that as soon as he had his own army, he would kill every single person who had taken his throne away from him.

As Viserys began to batter away at his sister, Annalise slowly let down Doreah to the floor and stood next to Viserys, yet he was completely unaware of the stern woman who happened to be summoning a large yellow bolt from her hand.

"You are a worm, a worthless little man who is less than the shadow of a snake. I have met lesser men who are more man than you are. You will crash and burn, and you will never win back your kingdom, because you are the least honourable, least noble man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting."

Annalise smashed the lighting spear against the head of Viserys, sending him flying away from the Khaleesi and ripping through the tent walls, sending him flying away from the group of women. It was quite the spectacle for those who had no idea what had sent the worthless man flying through the air. Doreah helped her Khaleesi off the floor, and the trio of women marched over to the dazed Viserys, who was moaning and crawling all over the floor.

"I am a Khaleesi of the Dothraki! I am the wife of the great Khal Drogo and I carry his son inside of me! The last time you raise your hand against me is the last time you have hands!" 

_**X-X-X**_

Over the next few days, very little was seen or heard of Viserys Targaryen the Third. Everything had seemed to be even better since Viserys had stopped showing his face around the massive camp.

Daenerys had more time to be with her husband, the great Khal Drogo, and it seemed like instead of being the intimidating and deadly warrior horselord in front of his men, he had become quite the nice and kind man when it came to being around his wife or her friends. If he was not conversing with his Khaleesi, or making love to her, (which was quite a lot) he could be caught either conversing with his bloodriders, or maybe even the Khalessi's ladies.

Ser Jorah had made it his personal objective that whenever Viserys had come out of wherever he was hiding to always be in Daenerys' immediate vicinity, just in case the Beggar King was in a paticularly violent and deplorable mood.

However it did not help him when he tried to rob Daenerys' dragon eggs before the feast.

"Where is my sister?" Viserys shouted, his voice thick with wine. "I've come for the feast. How dare you presume to eat without me? No one eats before the king!"

Ser Jorah Mormont went to him swiftly, whispered something to him and tried to escort him out by the arm, yet he wrenched free. "Keep your hands off me! No one touches the dragon without leave!"

Annalise looked at Daenerys, who seemed to be staring at the high table where Khal Drogo was sat, with Khal Ogo and Khal Jommo, the three men guffawing loudly at the spectacle in front of them.

The laughter that left the Khals' lips seemed to attract Viserys' attention as he lifted his eyes towards the high bench. "Khal Drogo, I am here for the feast." His voice was almost polite, and as he spoke he was staggering away from Ser Jorah, marching drunkenly to the high bench where the Khals were sat.

Khal Drogo rose from his seat, and pointed to a seat far away from the benches before spitting out what seemed to be a thousand words that none of the women knew how to translate.

"Khal Drogo says that your seat is not at the high bench." Jorah translated. "The Khal says that your seat is over there." 

Viserys glanced at the where the Khal was pointing. At the back of the room in a corner by the wall, deep in shadow so that the better and more respected men would not need to look at Viserys. There sat the lowest of the low, the unblooded boys, the stiff old men with clouded eyes, and the dimwitted and the maimed. They sat far from the food, and even farther from honour.

"That is not a seat for a king." Viserys declared.

"Is place," Khal Drogo answered in the common tongue. "For the Sorefoot King!" He clapped his hands and laughed. "A cart for Khal Rhaggat!"

The Dothraki that were in the hall with them began to laugh and shout at the joke made by Khal Drogo, and soon Ser Jorah was shouting down Viserys to leave and never come back, but Viserys ignored him and drew his sword.

"Keep away from me!" Viserys snarled, the bared steel shining oddly in the firelight, and he soon spotted Daenerys just away from the high bench.

"There she is." He said with a drunken smirk. He stalked towards her, pushing through the large crowds of Dothraki men and women.

"The blade… you must not." Daenerys begged. "Please Viserys, it is forbidden. Just put down the sword and sit with me. Is it the eggs you want? You can have them if you only drop the sword."

"Do as she tells you, fool!" Jorah shouted. "Before you get us all killed." 

"They can't kill us! They are afraid to shed blood in their holy city. I can." Viserys laid the point of his sword between her breasts and slid it down to her pregnant belly. "I want what he promised me, I want my crown! He bought you but he never paid for you! Tell him I want what I bargained for, otherwise I am taking my sister away from him, and I will cut out the bastard and leave it for him!"

Viserys was weeping, Daenerys saw, weeping and laughing at the same time both at the same time. The man who was once her brother.

Khal Drogo whispered to his fellow Khals, and the great smiles they had on their faces earlier had disappeared, instead replaced by the grim looks on their faces when they realised what would happen next. It had fallen so quiet that everyone could hear the bells in Drogo's hair, chiming softly with each stuff as he walked. His bloodriders followed him, circling the drunken dragon. He whispered a few words in Dothraki.

Daenerys began to translate. "He says you will have a golden crown. A crown that all men will tremble to behold."

"That was all I wanted." Viserys replied. "What was promised."

Drogo said another word, and in seconds the bloodriders were all over Viserys. Qotho took Viserys and snapped his wrist in one quick motion, and Jhoggo had taken Viserys' sword. Even then, Viserys did not know what was going on in his drunken state.

"No! You cannot touch me! I am the dragon and I will be crowned!" He yelled.

Drogo unfastened the gold bet from around his waist and threw it into a melting pot, each gold medallion was as large as a man's hand.

Viserys began to scream a high and wordless scream of a coward that was facing his imminent death. He kicked and twisted, whimpering and mewling like a dog, even beginning to weep like a child.

Ser Jorah had made his way to the Khaleesi. "Please, turn away Princess, I beg of you."

"No. I will not." Daenerys folded her arms around the swell of her belly.

"Sister, please. Dany, tell them to stop, please."

When the gold had finally been made runny, Drogo grabbed the pot and held it in the air.

"Crown!" He yelled. "Here is a crown for a king!" Drogo growled.

Drogo upended the pot over the head of the man who had been Daenerys' brother.

The sound Viserys Targaryen made when the hideous golden helmet covered his face was like nothing human. His feet hammered a frantic beat against the dirt floor, before slowing, and then stopping completely.

Not one drop of blood was spilled.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Changes

The moment Jon Snow had walked through the old wooden gates into Castle Black, he had been immensely disappointed by what he was met by. There were no heroic knights or lordly boys that were loyal to the Night's Watch, there was no massive force holding the castle, instead it was just barely a skeleton crew holding the fort.

It had been a lot more home-like with Uncle Benjen with him, and to an extent, even Tyrion Lannister had been nice to him, although it seemed like he was being insulted at first. Jon soon realised that Tyrion wasn't insulting him at all, instead he was trying to help. When Tyrion had told Jon that he was just as much a bastard as Jon was, it was the moment Jon knew Tyrion could be a potential ally.

 **Ally? I won't need allies, I have the Watch, what was I thinking?**

The Night's Watch had been in even worse shape than Jon had thought. There were barely any men who could fight, and the men who could fight well were few and far between. Lord Commander Mormont, Ser Alliser Thorne, Jon and a few others were the few who could fight adequately, but other than that, they were in a disgusting shape.

Jon had been treated like complete and utter shit by Ser Alliser, constantly insulted and shouted at by the Master-At-Arms all the time, and he did not even have Thorne's treatment the worst. He had felt even more sorrow for Samwell Tarly, the pudgy and clumsy boy from Horn Hill. Jon might have felt bad for acting like he was better than his other 'Brothers' but when he tried to see Sam put some effort into fighting it was like watching a pig try to fight back against a butcher.

 **The poor sod won't last a week here….**

Still, Jon could not just let him get bullied every day by Thorne and that fucker, Rast. Jon hated Rast, and of all the people Jon knew, he hated Rast the most. Whilst they were on the way to The Wall, Tyrion had told Jon that Rast was a prisoner forced to take the black, specifically, he was a raper, and when given the choice of losing his cock and losing his freedom, he chose to forsake his freedom.

So it felt right when Jon was forced to train with him, and Jon felt even better when he had absolutely devastated Rast in training. He hit as hard as he could, as many times as he could, wherever he could, and the result was Rast having many cuts and bruises all over him.

"Jon? Are you alright?" A timid voice asked, one that Jon could not see.

"I'm fine, Sam. Come and stand by the fire, you'll get even colder if you don't."

Samwell Tarly waddled from his space and moved closer to the fire, and held his hands closely to it, hoping to gain as much heat as he could so his hands didn't drop off to the frostbite. Jon kept his eyes trained on the cursed forest far below him, waiting patiently to see someone, a Ranger or a Wilding, to see if they were going to try and get past the massive icy structure that was The Wall.

"You know that even if you keep staring at the forest, it doesn't mean somebody is coming to try and get past it."

"I know, Sam, but somebody has to watch just in case. Vigilance is a good thing." Jon replied.

There was an uncomfortable silence between Jon and Sam for a while, Sam would probably consider Jon his only true friend at Castle Black. He had been the only person to stand up for him when Alliser had sicked Grenn, Pyp and Rast on him when he had first arrived. When the new recruits would take the vows and finally join The Watch, Sam would probably end up taking a space in the Stewards.

 **Hopefully that won't be us as well…**

No, Jon didn't want to be anything but a Ranger. He wanted to feel like he could make a difference somewhere, he could help stop the Wildling attacks that so frequently happened when he still had a place at Winterfell. He could remember every time Greatjon Umber would visit the Great Hall of Winterfell, asking Lord Stark for more men on the rare occasion so he could 'fucking kill those wildling whoresons' as the massive man would say.

No, Jon could never be one of the Builders or Stewards. He was an able fighter, a great rider, he had everything he needed to be a great successful Ranger of the Night's Watch.

"Jon, I never really got to thank you for helping me with Rast and Ser Alliser."

"There's no need, Sam. I wasn't just going to let them bully and insult you."

"But they do it to you, and it always seems to focus on you. Shouldn't you defend yourself as well?"

"I don't need to, Sam. His words don't harm me as much as he likes to think they do. He can call me a bastard and 'Lord Snow' as much as he likes."

"But it isn't right!"

"I bloody know it isn't right! I'm a bastard, Sam. I know I won't inherit any lands, or have a woman, or have the chance to have children, but I don't care about that. I want to make a difference, and the Night's Watch is where I can make a difference, small or large, and if putting with Ser Alliser is what I have to do to make that difference, then I will gladly pay the price."

Sam had gone silent once more, and Jon had realised that he might have gotten unnecessarily angry at Sam. He knew Sam was a good person, he could never hurt a fly, he could not even respond to when somebody insulted him. Occasionally, he would make the smart comeback and make a small smirk, but that was about it.

"I'm sorry, Sam. It's just…" 

"A shock?" Sam asked.

"Yes. I had lived in Winterfell for my entire life, and I would consider it my home. I had friends, and I had some sort of family, no matter how weird it was. We looked after each other. Now, I come to Castle Black and there is nothing here for me. I had no friends, other than you, Grenn and Pyp, and I have to put up with whoresons like Rast, and Ser Alliser." 

Everything that Jon had ever thought had been coming out that night. His most personal thoughts. He wanted to be a famous knight, or a famous explorer, mapping out new lands to add to the map of the known world.

 **If Will had seen what we had been doing for the small time, we've been here. He would have slapped us and told us to do whatever we liked, whenever we felt it was time to do it…**

 **And this is what we wanted to do!**

 **People lied to us! We were told that the Night's Watch was an honourable order, one that…**

 **...Guarded the realms of men! They still do! It does not matter what state they are in, as long as they still have a purpose and they keep that purpose!**

 _ **And how many men have abandoned the Watch? How many only joined to save their skins and then leave in the middle of a wildling attack? How many run away, free to kill and rape and maim as they like? We can't do good here!**_

"Jon, are you alright?" Sam asked once again.

"If I was to say to you, we would not have to join the Night's Watch, what would you say?" Jon asked in reply.

"I would say, 'your mad', why? What are you suggesting?" Sam asked timidly, taking his hands away from the fire and cupped them, breathing into his hands.

"When we get told what our stations will be, and they are not what we would like, we could always leave! We would not have taken our vows, we wouldn't be men of the Night's Watch!" 

"That… actually could work! We would never be chased around the realm, and we could do whatever we wanted!"

That night had been the only night Jon had been happy since he had arrived at Castle Black, and it would be the first of many happy nights, and the very day Jon left the Night's Watch with Sam, Pyp and Grenn, he had finally knew what he would have left behind if he had joined the Watch.

 _ **Freedom.**_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: The Stallion Who Mounts The World

Ever since Viserys Targaryen had been given his molten gold crown, and tossed in a ditch outside Vaes Dothrak, Khal Drogo, Daenerys Targaryen and the entire Khalasar had been a lot better off. The constant moaning, groaning and complaining had been getting on everyone's last nerves, and when the pathetic whining had stopped, the Khalasar had seemed to not be mourning the loss of the psychotic prince.

Daenerys was definitely better off without him there. The times where she would lose all her strength and confidence the moment Viserys walked by were long gone, and now her strength radiated and anyone close by could bask in it's full glory.

Even Khal Drogo had been enchanted by the sudden outburst of strength his wife had seemed to have. He definitely did everything he could to fully integrate his wife into the Khalasar, and on occasion, the Khaleesi could be heard agreeing with her husband when there was a dispute in the Khalasar's leaders, and even sometimes settling a dispute herself, as the strongest of the Khalasar knew never to argue with their Khaleesi, lest they risk angering the great Khal Drogo.

Since Viserys' death, Jhiqui, Irri and Doreah had not been harassed by anyone, and they continued to serve the Khaleesi loyally. Again, something about Daenerys Targaryen inspired loyalty in those that surrounded her. Ser Jorah Mormont had taken to being her personal bodyguard alongside Rakharo, another member of the Khalasar. The two men had become somewhat fast friends, especially considering that Ser Jorah had mastered speaking Dothraki.

Then everyone had found out that Daenerys Targaryen, The Stormborn, The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea was with child.

 _ **X-X-X**_

Many of the Khalasar's most respected men and women had gathered into the small hut, the centre of it upraised, showing what Daenerys Targaryen was doing. Khal Drogo was sat right in front of it, his bloodriders stood behind him, and Irri, Jhiqui, Doreah and Annalise were sat next to him, watching as Daenerys had began eating a raw stallion heart. Ser Jorah had a grim look on his face, probably from what she was doing, but he didn't look like he was going to move, and he kept his eyes trained on the Khaleesi.

"Doreah, what is the purpose of this… ritual?" Annalise asked quietly, as the female Dothraki continued to chant.

"As the princess is Khaleesi, it is her duty to have strong child for her Khal. The belief here is that if she is to eat a horse's heart, without throwing it back up, the Khal is destined to have a strong son." The handmaid replied.

The old crone kept on chanting, but Annalise could not make out a single word that the woman was saying. From what Annalise could tell from the manner and tone, it definitely was not sombre, yet it wasn't something the Khalasar would go to war about.

No, it sounded like something from a cult, something almost akin to a chant, and a few of the men and women surrounding the crone and Daenerys had begun to chant it as well, watching cautiously as Daenerys managed to keep large pieces of the heart down in her stomach. Her hands were covered in blood, and her face was coated in it.

Ser Jorah had taken a few steps forward, and was just at Annalise's side. He was not wearing his plated armour, otherwise he would have been sweating. He was wearing his green sur-coat, the great black bear stitiched on it, roaring at nobody and nothing in particular.

"Ser Jorah, what will happen if she doesn't eat the entire heart?"

"Nothing bad will happen to the Khaleesi, Drogo will make sure of that. However, if she does not eat it, it will mean that the child will either be a girl, or it will be a sickly child."

"I take it that will be a bad thing?" 

"Being a woman or sickly in a Khalasar is not very good, as you can already tell. If you were not a guest of Khal Drogo and the Khaleesi, you would be a slave to anyone of these men here. You would not have a nice fate, I would be able to tell you that much."

"I had guessed as much." 

Daenerys was making great progress with the heart, and the chanting from the crone had become even louder, and more passionate, so much so that even more of the Khalasar was chanting along with her, even Drogo's bloodriders were chanting quietly, and the Khal himself was just mouthing the words, his steely grey eyes focusing on his wife as she continued to eat and chew her way through the heart.

When Annalise had been away, Jhiqui and Irri had been preparing her for this exact ceremony, so Annalise had heard. Daenerys had asked for half-clotted blood so she could get accustomed to the taste of it, and had also apparently starved herself so the hunger could try and help her keep down the raw meat.

Soon, Daenerys had whittled the stallion heart down to a final piece, and quickly threw it into her mouth. She swallowed it, but fell to the ground, placing her hands over her mouth, trying to keep in what remained of the devoured horse heart. Spit and clotted blood dripped between the cracks of her fingers, but none remained of the heart. Daenerys picked herself up and stood tall in front of everyone, blood coating her fingers and all around her mouth.

Daenerys turned to look at the crones of the Dosh Khaleen. "Khalakka dothrae mr'anha!"

 _A prince rides inside me!_

The oldest of the crones, an old, shrivelled and bent woman with a single black eye, raised her hands up high. "Khalakka dothrai!" She proclaimed. _The prince is riding!  
_

" _He is riding!"_ Another woman shouted, and soon everyone was chanting. "Rakh! Rakh! Rakh haj!" _A boy, a boy, a strong boy!"_ They chanted.

The crones of the Dosh Khaleen began to throw bundles of dry grass into a bronze brazier, clouds of fragrant smoke began to slowly rise up from the fire. Soon the chanting stopped, and the old crone with the one black eye began to stare ominously into the fire as the other crones kept placing the dry grass into the fire.

Khal Drogo held tightly onto his wife's arm, even a Khal as dangerous and unpredictable as Khal Drogo knew never to cross the wizened one-eyed crone as she stared into the fires of the future.

Finally, the crone lifted her arms and opened her eye. She droned: " _I have seen his face, and I have heard the thundering of the hooves..."_

" _The thundering of the hooves!"_ The men and women chanted.

" _As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, with arakhs shining in their hands like blades of razor grass! As fierce as a storm this prince will be! His enemies shall tremble before him! The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name! The prince is riding, and he is the stallion who mounts world!"_ The one-eyed woman proclaimed.

" _The stallion who mounts the world!_ " The crowds gasped.

The one eyed crone peered at Dany. " _What will the prince be called, the stallion who mounts the world?"  
_

Daenerys looked up to answer. "His name will be Rhaego! The Stallion Who Mounts the World!"

" _Rhaego! Rhaego! His name will be Rhaego, the stallion who mounts the world!"_

The large crowd had gone from being deafly silent, to cheering and screaming as loudly as they could, chanting as loudly as they could. "Rhaego! Rhaego! Rhaego!" 

Drogo had gotten up from his chair and marched to the centre of the hut, picking up Daenerys, wrapping his muscled arms around her hips and hauling her up, and he carried her around the hut as the crowds just kept chanting:

" _ **Rhaego! Rhaego! The Stallion Who Mounts The World!**_


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Breakdown

William was busy overlooking the placing of the cannons, and the moment all three of his ships, _The Quiet Wolf,_ which was the man of war and his two brigs _Howler_ and _Growler_ were finally finally finished he felt like he had actually achieved something when House Stark's flag was raised high on the trio of ships. The men had cheered aloud, and the ran to their assigned positions on the ship, and William was glad to be one of them, taking charge of the _Quiet Wolf_. When the sails on all three masts dropped down, revealing the prowling wolf on the sails as it flapped gloriously in the wind.

"My Lord Captain! Your orders?" One of the men asked.

"Send a signal to the Howler! Tell them to fire their starboard cannons!" 

The three ships halted just off the coast, where King's Landing could still be seen, the Red Keep towering above the slums and manses of the largest city in Westeros. Anchors were dropped and all eyes were on the Howler, and there was a crashing like the sound of thunder as the cannonballs ripped through the air, the cannons spitting fire as the shots stormed out through the air and landed into the ocean.

The sight was a magnificent one, and the entire crews on all three ships cheered and roared as the cannons didn't backfire and blow them up. The cheering was even louder though, when the _The Quiet Wolf_ unleashed its full payload of cannons from the front of the ship. The ships ripped through the sea winds, the crews singing a loud shanty as _The Quiet Wolf_ slid gracefully over the water.

The demonstration of all three ships took just over half of the day, _The Quiet Wolf_ and its sister ships had shown their newly found effectiveness to the Westorosi, mainly showing the effectiveness of the cannons. All William had to get them to work on was the synchronicity on reloading and firing the cannons, and there was only one small case of one of the deck rats forgetting to clean out the cannon before adding another cannonball, which somehow resulted in one of the cannons refusing to fire, until the worst possible moment, where the same deck rat stood in front of the cannon, which then fired sending him flying through the hull of _The Quiet Wolf_ with an oversized hole in his chest.

Soon they got back to the hidden hideout for the Stark Fleet, and the men soon began to get to work on fixing the man sized hole in the starboard and refilling the stocks of cannonballs in the lower decks. He was just about to get to the Red Keep when a Stark soldier, Ryman, had ran up to him.

"Sir Will, Sir Will!" He yelled frantically, the sweat dripping off of his forehead.

"Ryman? What is wrong? What has happened?"

"It's Lord Stark! He's been injured on his way back to the Red Keep!" 

_**X-X-X**_

Ned could not remember much of what had happened right outside of Littlefinger's brothel, but he could definitely remember that Robert had gone and sired another bastard with one of the whores there, and he could remember Jaime Lannister confronting him just as he was about to leave. He had accused Ned of ordering Catelyn Stark of kidnapping the Imp, before his group of soldiers murdered his own, and he remembered seeing Jaime brutally kill Jory.

He had tried to fight back, he fought as hard as he could but it had been a long time since him and his old bones had been a proper fight, and it had been even more of a shock to his body when he realise he could have possibly kept up with the younger Lannister before he had a spear shoved through the back of his leg.

What Ned didn't remember was fainting onto a soft cosy bed, still under the effects of the milk-of-the-poppy Grand Maester Pycelle must gave given him when he somehow reached the Red Keep. He could barely feel his leg, he couldn't even try moving his own toes. He felt useless. If one could not even walk on their own, how could one even try doing anything else? When he thought of that, he could not help but also think of his own son, Bran. How the child had wanted to be a famous knight, how he wanted to squire of Sir William shortly after he had arrived, and how he wanted to become a member of the Kingsguard, but now his dreams were crushed, to be confined to a bed, with only a very small chance of even gaining a modicum of movement in his legs.

"My lord? Lord Stark, can you hear me?"

Ned could only just hear William's voice, and was as soft as whisper, and it was easily overpowered by the bickering or arguing of King Robert and Queen Cersei. Although the arguing was loud, William was just close enough so Ned could hear his voice, and could see his face when it wasn't being blurred out by the effects of the milk-of-the-poppy.

"Will? Is that you?" Ned asked.

"Aye, my lord, it is. I had heard you had been attacked on the way to the Red Keep whilst I was testing our… little 'project'." William whispered the last few words, as the two royals were not aware of the Stark's side project.

"What of my men? Did any of them survive?"

William gave a sad sigh. "Sadly not. Jory was dead instantly, and any of the rest that tried to fight were dead before the goldcloaks could get there. You were the only survivor. Do you remember what had happened?" Will asked.

Ned could remember perfectly clear what had happened, what had been said, and he had found another clue that could have helped him track down the killer of Jon Arryn. "We'll speak later." Ned mouthed, and the two watched as the married couple kept on egging each other on as the argument continued.

It had been a very harsh argument, and Will was quick to assume that the two were not in a very happy marriage, in private or in front of an entire court. Robert's word was law, and Robert's word was always the final one. Needless to say, if Westoros was under Cersei's rule, it would not be as peaceful as she would try and make it out to be. Especially considering that Robert had managed to keep every single kingdom from ripping and tearing at each other's throats, and had quelled one rebellion swiftly, he had set a good record, one that everyone doubted Cersei could beat.

 **Cersei thinks too highly of herself…**

 **Can you blame her? She is the Lioness of House Lannister, she should think highly of herself.**

Everyone had heard of her father, Lord Tywin Lannister, the Lord of The Rock. The Old Lion was not a man to be trifled with, at any cost. His father, Lord Tytos was a gentle and weak man, and his own bannermen mocked him when they were deep in their cups.

Needless to say, Tywin did not like that one bit. As soon as Tytos died, his heart having stopped as he made his way to his mistress' own solar, Tywin took total control. Tywin was enraged when his father gave the hag that was his mistress some jewellery that was his mother's. He had the mistress stripped naked and walked throughout the streets of Lannisport, and he made sure that she was punished accordingly after her brutal humiliation, being banished from the Westerlands forever.

Both Will and Eddard watched as the King and Queen kept on bickering, almost as if they were trying to see how far they could get the other before they exploded with anger and fury. Cersei managed to break Robert first, it seemed.

"If you are not going to punish their actions accordingly, I will get Jaime and Father to do it instead. I never thought that you could be so blind, maybe you should wear the dress, and I the crown." Cersei stated.

Cersei thought that that would silence Robert, or at least get him to explode with anger and storm off so she had a good reason to get her father involved, but Robert gave her an even better one. He gave her a look of complete rage, and his meaty hand flew towards her, slapping her hard across the face. The blow left a huge red mark on her cheek, but she did not shout or cry or storm off in anger, but instead she stood completely still, before looking at Robert with a look of complete hatred.

"I shall wear this like a badge of honour." She said.

"Then hurry up and leave, before I honour you again." Robert replied.

Cersei hitched up the parts of her dress that were dragging behind her and hurried out of the room, leaving Will, Robert and Eddard with the room to themselves. Robert sighed, and fiddled with the badge of the Hand of the King before tossing it back to Eddard.

"Robert… I am not…" 

"Just take the bloody badge and be the Hand, before I pin the damn thing on Jaime Lannister!" Robert yelled before storming out of the room.

Will looked at Eddard, and Eddard looked at Will with a look that was not surprised at all. Being the Hand of the King, Eddard had seen a lot more of the King and Queen a lot more than William had, and that was even when William had become the unofficial Master of Ships for Eddard. William had been shocked when he realised that the marriage between the King and Queen was a complete and utter failure.

"How long have they been like this for, my lord?" Will asked.

"For as long as I can remember. When they first married, they were as happy as can be, and then I left for Winterfell. A lot can happen over sixteen years."

"You don't say."

"William, listen to me. King's Landing is no longer safe for us. We are in grave danger, and if we don't leave soon, I am afraid we will end up just like Jon Arryn."

"Shall I round up the retinue, my lord?" 

"Yes, tell them to pack up everything they can and tell them where the ships are. I need to get to court, and once that is finished, we will need to talk to Sansa and Arya." 

"Yes, my lord. I shall get right to it."

 _ **X-X-X**_

Ever since William had began his own project for her father, the training lessons had become less and less frequent. Her own lord father had realised this and got her another trainer, who she had been told was the former First Sword to the Sea Lord of Braavos. His name was Syrio Forel, and he had a very different style to William. He was odd, yet funny and charming. He was serious about the training however, and he was teaching her a technique named 'waterdancing'.

 **Maybe if Will begins to train us again, we can learn regular techniques and continue with the waterdancing?**

Syrio had been so serious about sharpening her skills and senses, that he had tasked her with finding and collecting every cat that roamed around Red Keep, and trying to stand on the very tips of her toes at the top of stairs, to work on her balance.

At that moment, she was hunting the very last cat that was roaming the halls of the Red Keep. From what Arya had heard, the cat that she was hunting had been the very same one that had thundered across a table, robbed an entire piece of chicken from the hands of the Old Lion of Lannister, Lord Tywin and then escaped. It seemed that this cat was very wise, and very crafty, but Arya had faith in her ability to catch the furry demon.

She was crouched on the cold floors, moving as slowly as she could possibly go, her eyes never left the feline, and the feline kept it's eyes on her. Soon the cat began to move, and Arya began to slowly follow them, and then the cat started running, and Arya jumped from her knees and began to run after the little cat, down a small flight stairs and into a very dimly lit room.

The room was filled with dragon skulls, each of them all different shapes and sizes. Some of them were as small as little puppies, and some were as huge as a fully grown cart-horse, and one stood above the rest, almost as large as the Queen's own carriage.

"The wolf and the lion will soon be at each others throats. We will be at war soon, my friend." 

**The wolf and the lion? Who are they, what are they talking about?**

The voices began to get even louder, and Arya quickly jumped inside the mouth of the largest dragon skull, so she could not be spotted. She had given up all hope of finding that final cat, and she was now completely focused on getting out wherever she was, and finding her father. The two men had decided to stay near the dragon skulls, and Arya could do nothing but stay silent as the two men, both hooded, their faces concealed, kept talking.

"What good is war now? We're not ready, and if one Hand can die, why not the second?"

"This Hand is not the other."

"We both know Drogo will not begin his invasion until his son is born, we have time before the dragon returns. You know how the savages are."

" 'Delay', you say, 'Move fast', I reply. This is not a game for two players."

"It never was my friend, it never was." 

_**X-X-X**_

It was another regular day, and Sam and Jon were busy freezing their balls off on guard duty, just looking down from the top of The Wall. Their positions would be given to them at the start of the next day, but until then, they were stuck on the top of The Wall.

Jon had not been able to sleep ever since he had come to the conclusion that he could always leave The Wall. He had always wanted to be a Ranger, just like Uncle Benjen, he didn't want to be a builder, and he definitely did not want to be a Steward. Somehow, Sam had no problem with being a Steward, but even Sam had said it himself, he was a craven, he couldn't fight, but he could read and write, a skill most of the men stationed at the Night's Watch did not have.

"I miss girls. Not even talking to them. I could never talk to them. Just looking at them, hearing them giggle. Don't you miss girls?" Sam asked?

Jon smirked when Sam spoke up about the topic. Jon had never really considered himself an expert on the subject of girls, he would consider Robb and Theon to be the experts in that subject. Jon was just lucky enough to have received a small kiss on the cheek from one of Sansa's friends, and even then, that was only once. He had almost been entranced by one of the whores that Theon had bought for him on his sixteenth nameday, Ros her name was, but he knew that he would not have been able to live with himself he had sired a bastard of his own.

"Do you miss them that much, Sam?" Jon replied.

"Sort of." He gaily replied. "I'm not a very good Watchman am I?" 

"Nope." Jon said in response. The two started laughing as the two began to think of Sam actually trying to be a Watchmen, and even Sam himself couldn't keep himself from laughing at the thought.

The two men kept laughing until they saw a distant black spot approaching The Wall. It was moving fast, too fast to be a man, but it seemed to look like a horse as it thundered across the winter snows. Sam blew the horn for the first and final time, and the gates opened, with Sam and Jon rushing down to greet whoever had arrived. Jon had hoped that it would have been his Uncle Benjen, and if it was, then the next day Jon could be picked as a Ranger, and he would have been able to go out on missions with his uncle.

The two boys had rushed to the lift, and as slowly as the lift was, they made it down just in time to see the stable boy, with the horse in his grasp, yet the horse had no rider. Jon soon realised that the horse was his own Uncle Benjen's.

 **Where is Uncle Benjen?  
**

 _ **X-X-X**_

"Father! Father!" Arya yelled as she ran through the Stark's quarters in the Red Keep.

Since she had escaped the dungeons of the castle, and ran through the never-ending corridors to find her father, she had seen the Stark men and women who had travelled south with them throwing everything they could find into boxes and placing them on carts, as if they were ready to start heading north.

She had seen Will just enter her father's office, and she had just burst through the door to see the two discussing what would be happening.

"No! I will not allow you to do this! As your lord, I am commanding you!" 

"And as your man, and your friend, I am declining!"

It was very rare a time when Arya would hear her father shouting, and it was every rarely that he shouted at all. It was even stranger when Arya had realised that her father was shouting at William, and William was shouting back at him.

"No! It is too dangerous for you to stay! You are coming with us!" Lord Stark yelled.

"You are going without me, the North needs you! It doesn't need me! You need to take Arya, you need to take Sansa, you take the men and women who are loyal to you and go home!"

Arya, being the bull-headed and brash girl that she was, charged into the room without a second thought, and the shouting soon stopped.

"Father, please stop arguing! I need to tell you something, and you both need to hear it!" 

Arya had never even ran as fast as she had in her life, but when she had ran all the way from the docks linking the dungeons to the outside world, she knew she had to be the first to tell her father about what she had heard.

"What did you hear, Arya?" Will asked.

"I was chasing a cat, and while I was chasing it, it ran into the dungeons, so I chased it, because..." 

"Syrio told you?" 

"Yes, but I was chasing the cat, and I lost it. Then I heard two voices, and I hid inside the dragon skulls. They were talking about the wolf and the lion, and I heard them talking about assassinating the Hand…." 

"Did you get to see what they looked like?" Lord Stark asked.

"No, there faces were hidden, but one of them was fat!"

"Arya..." Eddard placed his head in his hands and sighed.

"I'm not joking! I'm telling you the truth!"

Ned was silent, and so were Will and Arya. Ned started packing things into boxes, and he wrapped his sheath around his waist, placing his longsword in the sheath. He soon had one book in his hand and he had Ice in the other.

"William, I may be wrong at times, and this is one of these times. Where is the _The Quiet Wolf?"_

"She's in a hidden cove, just down the coast, if you go through the dungeons and go to the docks from there, go south for a bit, and you should find it, you won't be able to miss it. She is a beauty." Will said, with a small smirk.

"Take this book, and read it, and if you don't see what I see, look at the Baratheon line. Remember, _the seed is strong."_

"I will remember, my lord. Safe travels to you, maybe one day we will meet again."

"Hopefully, Sir William. It has been an honour to have you under my command."

"And it has been an honour to serve you as my lord. Goodbye, Ned."

What William had not been able to anticipate was Ned pulling him in for a small hug, for the small time that Will had been under Ned's command, he had done an amazing feat for House Stark, which would save their skin at the best of times, and give House Stark a major advantage in naval warfare, which it had needed for some time. When Ned pulled away, he said a quick goodbye and left the room, which left Will and Arya alone.

"Will I ever get to see you again?"

"Maybe one day, little wolf. When your older and probably a lot wiser, and maybe when that day comes you'll actually be able to beat me. You keep practising that waterdancing, little wolf, and never forget what I have taught you." Will answered.

"I won't."

"I don't doubt that you will, _my lady."_

"I'm not a lady!"

Arya bull-rushed Will gave him a tight hug as well, lasting a lot longer. It seemed to be one that was full genuine affection, something William had not felt in quite a long while.

"You better not die." Arya said.

"I won't. Just do me one thing, Arya."

"Yes?" 

"Look after your sister. I know I'm meant to be her shield against people like Joffrey, the blonde little shit, but I won't always be there, like now. You might be her younger sister, but just make sure she stays safe, alright?"

"I promise."

 _ **X-X-X**_

 _ **Yes, my loyal readers and followers, I am alive and still updating. I wish I could apologise about how long I took finishing this, and it probably could be a lot better. Here we go, another chapter. It has been a very long time coming.**_

 _ **-The One Real Italian Stallion-**_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Future Imperfect

It hadn't taken long for the Stark retinue to leave their apartments in the Red Keep. Both Eddard and William had known that the Starks were no longer welcome in King's Landing. Jaime Lannister and his men had made sure of that when they had crippled Eddard Stark so badly that it was very likely that he would need the assistance of a cane to walk for the rest of his life. Will could not help but feel terrible for not being able to protect Lord Stark when he was needed the most.

 **You cannot blame yourself, Will. He had ordered you to complete the ships, and you would have had no idea where he would have gone anyway…**

 **No, but I could have defended him from the damned Lannisters! I could have saved Heward, Wyl and Jory! I should have been there!**

Will could have beaten those Lannister soldiers, with his hands and legs tied behind his back, whilst blindfolded. He probably could have done it right then as well, but Jaime Lannister had been intelligent enough that if he had stayed, he would have only caused more trouble. From what Eddard had told him before he had left, Lady Catelyn had captured Tyrion Lannister and taken him to Lady Lysa, Catelyn's sister, in The Eyrie. In response, Tywin Lannister had emerged from Casterly Rock and taken his mad dog, Gregor Clegane and taken to burning all of the Riverlords' lands wherever they went.

 **We should have gone with them, we should help them. The Starks took us in when we had no idea where we were. We should repay them in kind…**

 **We can repay them in kind by staying the capitol. We can give them reports from the south, and we can keep an eye on the Lannisters. We help them, even though we may not be able to help them physically…**

As soon as Eddard and Arya had left the Hand's Quarters, William had rushed to his own room, locked the door, threw the book down onto the table by his bed, and shouldered the bottomless bag. William was not going to risk losing all of his belongings, especially not during such a stressful and strenuous time. He took a look at the book, and it seemed to be one that looked like a long and boring read, if looking at the size of the book was anything to go by.

 **The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms…**

 **That is a bit of a mouthful, is it not?**

The leather-bound book seemed to be in great condition, despite how old it looked. There looked to be hundreds upon thousands of pages, detailing the very beginnings and sometimes ends of entire houses. Will read about Houses like House Peake, one of the houses that seemed to have been once a massive and wealthy house with three holds, now it was one hold with a very small lineage. He soon found out that the House of Baratheon was slightly related to the exiled House of Targaryen.

 **That must be why the Lannisters or the Starks never took the Iron Throne, the Baratheons had the blood right to it…**

There seemed to be a small piece of torn paper inside the book, placed on the page of House Baratheon. William began to take a look and read the family history of House Baratheon.

Lyonel Baratheon – Blue of eye, Black of hair.

Ormund Baratheon – Blue of eye, Black of hair.

Steffon Baratheon – Blue of eye, Black of hair.

Robert Baratheon – Blue of eye, Black of hair.

Joffrey Baratheon – Green of eye, Gold of hair

 **The seed is strong, the seed is strong, the seed is strong…**

"Oh, fuck..."

 _ **X-X-X**_

Will had unravelled the mystery, why Jon Arryn had died, no, why Jon Arryn was murdered. Will had found out why Lord Stark was almost killed when he was at that whorehouse. William had been told by Ned that the King had many bastards, and it was well known that Robert was a well known philanderer. Yes, they were bastards, and they would never inherit a thing unless things had reached very extreme circumstances, but they still had Baratheon blood running through their veins.

Will had left the Stark apartments and had began roaming the halls of the Red Keep, he was now the very definition of the lone wolf. He was the only Stark man left in the capitol, and just before he had left the apartments, Will could see the _The Quiet Wolf_ and its' sister ships making their unannounced escape, right under the noses of House Lannister.

It had taken a while for the information to hit William, but when it had done, it had hit him at full pelt. 'The seed is strong' was Jon Arryn's way of saying that King Robert's children were not his children, but in actuality, Lannister bastards.

 **House Baratheon never will never in actuality have a dynasty…**

 **And the House of Lannister will have taken over in secret, and nobody would ever have known if Jon Arryn had never said the words…**

 **The future seems to be very much imperfect, William.**

"Sir Will! Sir Will!" A voice yelled from behind him.

The voice turned out to be Robert's youngest brother, and the fifth-in-line to the Iron Throne, Prince Renly. He was covered in blood from head to toe, and his face seemed to be carrying the look absolute shock and horror.

"My Prince? What is wrong? What has happened?" Will asked.

"Robert… We were on the hunt and he was drunk… I had taken flight before I heard his scream… I ran back and the boar…. It was goring him…." Renly stammered and blustered between breaths.

"Where is he?"

"He's in the royal apartments, with Cersei and the rest of them. Where is Lord Stark?" Renly asked.

"He's gone. He left King's Landing just a while ago. I chose to stay here."

"I see… No matter, please, come with me." 

_**X-X-X**_

The closer and closer William and Renly got to the Royal Apartments, the more and more the two men could smell the stench of death and despair, despite all of the flowers that tried to make it seem like the smell never existed in the first place, but even the flowers were overpowered by the mixture of the shit in Fleabottom and the smell of rotting flesh in the Red Keep.

"Ser Meryn, Ser Preston, stand aside, William is with me." Renly ordered.

The two knights moved and William and Renly entered the room. The room had two braziers lit, and they were not just a flickering flame, but a fiery blaze that seemed to make every single person in the room break into a sweat. Varys had a small handkerchief and was wiping his head, Littlefinger was as far away from the braziers as possible, and Ser Barristan was stood on King Robert's right side, watching over him. Cersei was close to her husband as well, and it seemed that Robert was taking his final moments to speak to his son.

"I'm sorry, that I was not a good father to you… I was never meant to be a father…"

When Robert had said his final piece to his son, Joffrey had walked out without a word said. Robert blinked a few times and spotted William standing next to Renly.

"Will? Is that you, lad? Where is Ned?" Robert asked.

"Ned… he left, Your Grace, news about Lord Bran had came up and he wanted to go immediately, as did his daughters."

 **A lie, a white lie but a lie none the less…**

"I see… I don't blame him. Family always come first, wouldn't you agree, Will?" 

"I would agree, Your Grace." 

"You're a good lad, Will. Has Ned ever told you that?" Robert asked, deliriously.

William had to smile at that. It had not happened very often, but it had happened from time to time, mainly just as a small compliment. Robert gave a small chuckle, and then curled up in pain, his face a grimace. William felt like he had seen something like this before, with Vendrick, yet this time he was not responsible for killing the great man, but instead, it was an overgrown pig.

 **Robert is not a good man though, he beats Cersei, he abuses Joffrey, he does not care about his kingdom! A good king needs to care, to manage his kingdom! Robert never did that! He left everything to his council, who according to Ned, have not done a very good job, Jon Arryn, may his soul rest in peace, definitely tried to keep the Seven Kingdoms in line. Ned Stark also tried! Why didn't Robert?**

"Many of the Stark household, Your Grace. I served Lord Stark loyally, I served him more than anyone else, even myself." William replied.

"I bet you did, lad. The Starks always manage to find a way to make the best out of people. Especially Ned, always Ned."

Robert gave a series of cough, a horrible mixture of blood and mucus coming out of his mouth. His wound seemed to start bleeding even more, the bandages, dampening with all of the blood pouring out of the king as he lay on his deathbed.

"All of you, I need to talk to William in private, all of you leave, even you Barristan." The king told his guard, sadly.

"Are you sure, Your Grace?" The old knight asked, and his eyes seemed to be on the verge of crying.

"I'm sure, Barristan. Don't blame yourself for this, I told you not to interfere between me and the whoreson pig. This was my fault."

"My love, please, allow me-" Cersei tried to interject.

"Get Out! All of you!" Even when he was nearing death, Robert still managed to get his might voice heard. The council and the guard and the queen all left hastily, leaving William with the drying royal.

 **What do you think he wants?**

 **Probably going to make a deathbed conversion to the Seven or whatever their gods are….**

"Will, start writing for me, use the paper next to me."

"What should I write, Your Grace?"

"I, King Robert Baratheon, First of his Name, Lord of Seven Kingdoms, titles and titles. Hereby proclaim, my brother, Stannis Baratheon, Prince of Dragonstone, as Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms until my son and heir, Joffrey Baratheon, comes of age."

"Is that all, my king?" Will asked.

"Aye, Will. Aye, send Pycelle in, it's time for me to go." Robert said, closing his eyes, giving a quiet cough.

"Of course. I may not have seen you or known for a long time, unlike Ned, but I can tell that you have always meant well, and not everyone may have seen that, but I did. You were a good king, Robert. Goodbye, My King."

William left the room without another word, but he could hear King Robert just barely whisper the words 'goodbye, lad' before Will left the room. The council were waiting right outside the room, and it seemed like Cersei might have shown some kind of emotion when William left the royal apartment.

"S-s-sir Will, w-w-what has King Robert said?" Pycelle stuttered.

"Give him some milk of the poppy, Grand Maester. It's time." Will replied.

It seemed like an eternity, but soon the elderly Maester had returned, and it seemed like the atmosphere of the group could have been cut with a knife.

"Grand Maester, could you take me to the ravenry? I need to send a raven to Winterfell and Dragonstone." Will asked, as politely as he could.

"O-o-of course, sir, come with me."

 **Hopefully, you won't be looking at the very same letters I will be sending to Ned and Lord Stannis….**

"William?" Cersei said.

"Yes, Your Grace?" 

"After you have sent your letter, please come and see me in Maegor's Holdfast, I need to speak to you in private."

Will was not shocked by her request, but he was more curious. He had no idea why he would have wanted to be seen by Queen Cersei Lannister, unless she needed a shoulder to cry on, but that was all William would have been good for.

"Of course, My Queen, I shall be there as soon as I can be."

"Thank you, kind sir. The Small Council is dismissed." Cersei ordered, before turning and walking to the Holdfast.

 **May the Gods help us all, especially if Joffrey becomes King…**

 **You never know, maybe he will change when he is given some responsibilities…**

 **Somehow, I doubt that.**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: New Ally

If someone were to ask Daenerys Targaryen about the world before she had been married to the great Khal Drogo, she would have only confessed only remembering Illyrio Mopatis' manse, and some other areas in Pentos. Viserys had kept her confined and definitely made it an objective to make sure Daenerys never wondered too far away from him or Pentos if she managed to even get that far. It may have been unlikely, but she knew there were ways of escaping the manse, ways of escaping her late brother.

However, if one was to ask her about how well-travelled she was when she had been married to the greatest Khal Essos had ever seen, then she would have admitted to being a lot happier as a nomadic tribal leader that could travel wherever she wanted with her lover and her group. Ser Jorah never complained and seemed to get along well with the Dothraki, and made a friend out of Rakharo. Annalise and the other girls like Irri, Jhiqui and Doreah seemed to get along just as well, even somehow managing to get along with the intimidating man that was Khal Drogo.

At that moment in time, the Khalasar had decided to stop outside Qohor to retrieve their new ransoms, so they don't end up sacking the entire city. Qohor had a great history, and one of their specialities was their blacksmithing, as they were the only people with the knowledge of how to make something that just barely resembled Valyrian Steel. That, and the Dothraki had no need of such things, creating an arakh was just asking for something complicated, and nobody had even contemplated creating an arakh made from Valyrian Steel, that was even if someone had even tried.

Daenerys and her entourage were making a trip around the markets, and as she was the wife of the man who held the city at ransom, she was free to go wherever she liked, as long as she did not inquire about how the Qohorik blacksmiths did their work. Dany was definitely interested in how they did their work, especially as it was so closely related to how her ancestors did their own work. From the legends that the Khaleesi had heard, it seemed like some of the Valyrian forges would have needed the heat of a dragon and a blacksmith who knew how to do the spells and incantations on the sword to make it unbreakable. She only knew of two Valyrian Steel swords that supposedly existed: Blackfyre and Dark Sister, the swords of House Targaryen.

"Khaleesi, the next few stalls are wines and different types of drink." Irri said.

"Oh? Maybe they have something from my homelands…." Daenerys pondered aloud.

The sun was beating down heavily that day, and it seemed like the pale white skin that the Targaryens were known for was almost not noticeable on Daenerys. Instead, her skin was almost olive in colour, the pale skin tanned by the constant days and weeks in full view of the suns rays.

It had been a few months since Daenerys had been married to Khal Drogo, and that terrifying ordeal that was the first few weeks of their marriage. Yet she had grown to love him, and she loved him more than anyone else that she had known before. She never knew her father, King Aerys, and she could scarcely remember her mother Queen Rhaelle, and her brother definitely did not love her in the slightest. If anything, the people around her shown her more affection than her own family: Annalise and the girls, even Ser Jorah Mormont treated her like family, and obviously Drogo showered his Khaleesi with attention.

As the small group of women walked across the market, they gazed upon the magnificent and weird objects that the merchants were selling. Some were animal skins from animals like 'tigers' or 'lizard-lions' or animals that Daenerys or her girls had never even heard of. Some merchants were selling of clearly fake goods, and some others were selling potions and concoctions that were guaranteed to give their drinker immortality or skill in bed, yet all of them were false, Daenerys had concluded.

 **The only way one gets good at something is with practice…**

She had seen Khal Drogo practice fighting with some of his bloodriders, and had the scarce time to even see Jorah practice, but it was a rare occasion when she got to see him in full plate armour. It was a very stark contrast, between the two men: Jorah and Drogo. Drogo fought with ferocity, he was quick and light-footed, swing his arakh around like it weighed absolutely nothing, yet if he made one wrong step, he would be dead or at the least, seriously wounded.

Then she would occasionally see Jorah fight, usually in riding leathers or some of his armour on, usually around his legs or arms. From what she had heard from Rakharo, Jorah had an advantage over them if he had ever thought about fighting the Dothraki. Apparently, the Dothraki Hordes spotted around Essos and further away were used to one hit kills or at least having their opponents disabled as they were no armour. Jorah had the one hit advantage and more luck as he wore his steel plate armour.

As the Khaleesi and her group wandered the markets, the merchant men and women, tradesmen and craftsmen from all over the world begging the Khalessi and the girls with them to try their products, yet they had no interest.

"Ser Jorah, can't you make him understand?" Daenerys asked, slightly begging, although begging was almost beneath her.

"Khaleesi, the Dothraki do things in their own time, and they do it for their own reasons. Don't worry yourself too much, we will be home soon." Jorah replied.

"My brother was a fool, I know that much at least, but he was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne to the Seven Kingdoms," Jorah started to laugh slightly, but it died in his throat as soon as Daenerys glared at him. "Did I say something funny, Ser?"

"Please forgive me, Khaleesi, but did Aegon the Conqueror take over six of the seven kingdoms because it was his right. He did it because he could do it. He seized them because he could seize them, he had no right at all."

"And because he had dragons." Daenerys added.

"Yes, well having three almost fully grown dragons also helps too." Jorah replied with a smile.

"You don't believe, do you?"

"Have you ever seen a real dragon, Khaleesi? The last real dragon died when it was only the size of a dog, or so have I heard. As for the rest of it, it was three hundred years ago, who knows how it really happened? Now, if you will excuse me I must go and seek out the Merchant Captain, and see if I have any letters awaiting me from my family." Jorah said.

"Then I will accompany you then." Daenerys stubbornly said.

"No, please don't trouble yourself. I will catch up with you soon enough."

 **Yes, I will see you later, Jorah, hopefully when you decide to try and help my cause…**

The older warrior strolled off, leaving Daenerys and her girls wandering the markets with only Rakharo as guard. The merchants were chanting at other people know, but they still knew she was inside the crowd, but they had stopped heckling her and attempting to beckon them over to their stalls. Soon, they had came up to the wine merchants who was beckoning them and some others over.

" _Mra qora! Mra qora! I have sweet reds! I have sweet reds from Lys, Volantis and The Arbor! Tyroshi pear brandy! Andalish sours! I have them! I have everything!"  
_

Soon enough, the wine merchant noticed the group of Dothraki nearing him and began to focus his attention on them, forgoing the other potential customers.

"Khaleesi, how about a sweet red wine from Dorne? One taste and you will be naming your first child after me!"

"I already have a name for my first child, but I would not mind tasting your summerwine. Juste a taste." Daenerys replied.

"You… You are from Westoros, Khaleesi?" The merchant asked, somewhat dumb-founded.

Annalise began to introduce the Khaleesi. "You have the honour of addressing Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the riding men and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Princess..." The merchant said, bowing before her.

"Rise, I would still like to try your wine."

"Of course, Your Grace, a free cask for the Khaleesi."

The merchant dashed inside of his tent stall that housed his merchandise, pulling out a large cask of summerwine for Daenerys, which Rakharo pried from the merchants hands.

"You know, there are many people in Westoros who pray for your return, Your Grace." The merchant said.

"Well, I hope to repay your kindness in kind one day."

At that moment, Jorah had returned and began his duty once more, probably in the most rude manner he could have done.

"Open the cask." He ordered. "I have a thirst. Rakharo, put the cask down."

"Umm, the wine is for the Khaleesi, not for the likes of sellswords and rabblerousers like you."

"Open it." He said sternly.

The merchant took a deep sigh, breathed and made his way to the group, raising the cask to his table, and opened it.

"Pour."

"It would be a crime to pour the wine without giving at least some time to breath."

"Do as he says." Daenerys ordered.

"Of course." The merchant took a small cup and filled it to the brim.

 **Smells too sweet…**

"Can you smell it? The lovely sweetness of the greatest summerwine you will ever try?"

"You first."

"Me? I am afraid I am not worthy of the vintage. Besides, I would be a poor merchant if I was to drink my own wine."

"You will drink."

The man made a toast, and raised the cup to his lips, but just barely allowed the fluid to touch them, just allowing the see-through liquid to touch his lips. As soon as the wine made contact with his lips, the merchant through the cup away and ran as fast as he could to avoid the two armed men who had drew their weapons.

" _Rakharo! Stop him!_ " Jorah yelled in Dothraki.

Rakharo drew his whip, and whilst the merchant continued to charge past the moving crowds in front of him, Rakharo let loose with his whip, and just as it seemed to wrap around the merchant's leg, it did not even matter.

The merchant was raised from the ground, and the small man dangled helplessly as the man lifted him up effortlessly, with his hand around the merchant's throat. From what Daenerys and the others could tell, the man was wearing a very large set of armour, and it seemed to shimmer as the sun beat down on it.

The drawing of steel was heard, and the small merchant man was thrown to the ground in a heap. The man that had held him up before seemed to be wearing a very different set of armour, it glimmered in the sun and the plate seemed to be an immaculate, as if it was a very new set of armour. Various types of cloth covered the plating, as if the man underneath was trying to be inconspicuous, but the box-like helmet did not help with that.

The merchant began to crawl away, and then soon realised he was trapped on both sides, with the unknown man in front of him and the Dothraki behind him.

"You should not have done that now, should you?" The man in armour growled.

The last thing merchant would see until he woke up would be the large glowing sun on the man's chest as a mailed fist smashed into his face.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Praising the Dragon

"So your name is Solaire?"

"Yes, my lady. Solaire from the Holy Lands of Astora, or just Solaire of Astora." The large man replied.

"And you say that you have no idea how you arrived here in Qohor?" Daenerys asked.

"The way I see it, our fates are now intertwined. Could it really be mere chance that I managed to capture that dreadful assassin that would have escaped? As a Warrior of Sunlight, it is my duty to help whoever I can, no matter who they are."

"You did not answer my question." Daenerys stated.

"I know. Truthfully, I have no idea how I managed to get here. How does one such as me, transcend their own world, their own reality, and manage to be in a place such as this? A place where I am clearly not from. Where does one such as me go from here?" 

It was clear that the new warrior that they had met was troubled, that much was clear. He carried himself pridefully however, yet he was not egotistical. He was not rude, rather polite instead. His armour was very rare in the east.

"Nowhere." Annalise answered, as she answered Solaire's question.

"Are you… who I think you are? One, from my land? A lady of the flame?" Solaire asked, and he quickly knelt before her, his sword planted firmly in the ground.

"Lady Anna, do you know this man?" Jorah asked inquisitively.

Annalise was quiet for a moment, and as soon as she could see Solaire's eyes peer through his helmet, she knew he was the very same man from ages past. "Aye, I know him. Solaire of Astora, Warrior of Sunlight, and a close friend and companion. I know this man well."

"Lady Anna? Oh, my eyes must be deceiving me! I must be dreaming, it cannot be! I never thought I would see you again! Oh, how I have missed you!"

Solaire leapt from his knees, and leaving his sword planted firmly in the ground and wrapped his heavily armoured arms around the small priestess in front of him. It had been a long time since she had been hugged, especially from a man as kind as Solaire. She would get affection from Daenerys and the other girls, but not from the other men, even Jorah kept his emotions locked away. Clearly, Solaire was different.

 **How long has Solaire been here? With nobody like us with him, has he been alone all of this time?**

"Solaire, have you been alone all this time?" Anna asked.

"I… I don't know. I have heard roars of beasts I would rather not see ever again. They… they sounded like a dragon."

"A dragon you say?" Daenerys interjected. "Did you see it? What did it look like?" 

Solaire was silent again, and he could tell that Daenerys was rather interested when dragons were mentioned. The tanned, silver haired young girl seemed to pale when Solaire had told her the answer.

"I caught a small glimpse… It was as black as the night, and its roar… It was a thing of beauty, I have never heard anything like it…" 

The whole tent was silent, nobody could even comprehend what Solaire was telling them at all. Dragons in Westoros? Dragons hadn't existed for hundreds of years, and the last dragon that lived was only as big as a small puppy, yet Solaire had just told them he had seen an adult, pure black, roaring dragon roaming the lands. There had never been a thing said for hundreds of years, and everyone was reacting exactly as those who accompanied them.

That was to say, speechless.

Khal Drogo soon entered the tent, with his bloodriders and there most trusted Dothraki riders in tow. Drogo made a beeline for his Khaleesi, and wrapped around her with his seemingly enormous arms, holding her tight within his grasp. The rest of the group were silent, not even letting out a breath, lest they incur the Khal's anger and wrath, because he was clearly angry, but not at the group, but at the tied up assassin who was lying helplessly on the floor, bleeding like a stabbed hog, his nose broken completely and some teeth completely missing. Droplets of water were running down his head, and the group could not determine whether he was sweating, or crying silently in fear.

" _My sun and stars, are you injured? Hurt in anyway? Tell me, my love."_ Drogo growled in Dothraki.

" _Moon of my life, I'm perfectly fine. Jorah the Andal and… Solaire of Astora saved my life."_

Drogo let go of Daenerys and stood tall, taller than anyone else in the room, except for Solaire, who stood at exactly the same height as Drogo.

" _Jorah the Andal, Solaire of Astora, I will allow you to pick one of the best horses from our stores, for the service you have done for me, and for saving my wife from danger." Drogo said, clapping the two men on their shoulders._

Jorah quickly responded in Dothraki, thanking Khal Drogo for the reward. Drogo looked at Solaire strangely, as if he were completely out of place.

" _You are… different. Not from Essos, or the place across the great salt sea. Who are you?"_ Drogo asked.

Solaire looked at him in the weirdest way, and he had no idea what the massive, topless giant was trying to say (Or growl) to him.

"Pardon me, but what is he trying to say?" Solaire asked.

Jorah was the first to answer. "He says that you are not from this place, Essos, or from across the Narrow Sea. He asks who you are."

"Oh, I see. Well, my name is Solaire of Astora, a Warrior of Sunlight and ally. Who are you?"

It was then Drogo's turn to look at Solaire with a confused look on his face. The two behemoths looked at each other, each of them rather confused as they looked at the other.

Daenerys was the first to end the awkward and uncomfortable silence. _"My sun and stars, Solaire here is from a far away land, just like Annalise. He is a warrior that fights for the sun. Trust me, love, he is a firm ally."_

" _I believe you, Moon of my_ _life, but will he live like the way we live? He seems to be… too good..."_

" _He will have to follow us anyway, my sun and stars, if he is our ally."  
_

Soon, Khal Drogo stopped focusing on Solaire, and glared at the bleeding assassin on the floor. The assassin seemed to have relieved himself all over the floor he was lying upon, before being dragged to his knees by the Khal before him. The liquid that was covering his face had now thoroughly convinced everyone that the man was definitely crying his eyes out, and the fact that he had now cried so much, he just could not cry any more.

" _You are not worthy of the very ground you walk upon," Drogo said. "If you had not even considered attempting to kill the moon of my life, then I would not even bother trying to talk to you. Now, you will die, slowly and painfully,_ _and alone_ _. You will die, your children will die, your fami_ _ly will die, and they will die like dogs."_

Drogo drew his arakh, and dug it deep into the man's flesh, slowly slicing from the shoulder all the way down to the wrist, before doing it to the other arm. He then began to slice down the man's spine, and then his stomach. Drogo's eyes were full of fiery intent, he wanted the man to die, clearly, but the way he was going about it seemed to express his very hatred of the man who tried to kill his own wife, the mother of his child. Soon, Drogo stood the man up, who at that point was pouring blood everywhere, and slowly placed the arakh on the man's throat, and the harshly sliced for the final time. He fell to the floor, clutching at his throat at an attempt to stem the bleeding, yet it did not work, and soon enough, he died.

The sudden screams tore through the entire Dothraki encampment, and the sharp sound of arakhs being drew put the entire camp on alert. Drogo and his bloodriders charged out of the tent, with Daenerys, Anna, Jorah and Solaire following close behind him. Soon, they reached the centre of the camp, to see the destruction that was being caused, horses were galloping everywhere, crushing men, women and children of the Khalasar underfoot, tents were burning down, and men and women were screaming, as flames began to cover them, their very flesh sloughing off their bones as they fell to the floor.

" _Do not retreat! Do not fall!"_ Drogo screamed out, his bloody arakh in hand. He looked all around, trying to see whatever was causing all of the destruction in his own camp.

Soon, he had his answer. Four black, leathery feet landed on the sand. There was a roar, loud, bellowing into the sky, and the sky was lit up. Fire was being spewed into the humid air, and Drogo dropped his arakh, as the sleek black creature bowed his head and looked at the tiny man in front of him.

 **A Dragon, a real-life, live dragon?**

"Drogo, stop!" Solaire yelled out.

Solaire drew his sword and charged the dragon, but was smacked aside by one of the Dragon's paws. Solaire flew into one of the flaming tent, but emerged unscathed yet slightly burnt, yet he was thrown aside once more by the dragon's tail. Solaire landed in front of Jorah and Daenerys, he tried to get up once more, but failed, before dropping to the floor, groaning in pain.

" _What are you?!"_ Drogo screamed in anguish, spitting and smacking his chest in anger as he spoke.

Soon the dragon stopped causing chaos and killing the Dothraki, and looked at the screaming little man in front of him.

" _ **I AM KALAMEET!"**_


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Kalameet

" _ **I AM KALAMEET!"**_

The huge scaled lizard gave a mighty roar, and it sounded louder than anything any of the men, women or children in the Dothraki camp had heard in years. There had never been a live dragon seen for what seemed to be thousands of years, but it was more like hundreds of years instead.

What was different about the new dragon named 'Kalameet', was that he only seemed to have one eye, the eye that seemed to light up the entire Dothraki camp in blood red rage. The massive dragon screamed and roared in anger as he flew around the camp, engulfing the tents in flames and melting the skin of men's bones. His wings flapped violently, the gales making the tents fly through the air, some on fire, some not.

 **A real dragon… A real live dragon…** Daenerys thought.

She had only heard tales of dragons from her elders. Legends like Balerion the Black Dread, the mighty war-beast that her great predecessor Aegon the Conqueror rode when he took over Westoros, Vhagar and Meraxes accompanying them, Rhaenys and Visenya riding them alongside their brother-husband. Her ancestor formed the foundation of the country she would soon take over, the land where she would now be the Queen.

 **Me… A Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, it is my destiny, my birthright, The Iron Throne is mine by the Divine Right, the gods made the Targaryens the reigning dynasty for hundreds of years, I am destined to be the Queen!**

Daenerys was shaken out of her stupor by Jorah and Solaire, who had now drawn both of his swords, and the cloth that was covering his armour was no gone, the silver-steel plate was now shining eerily in the dying dragonfire that was, at the time, burning down the entire camp.

"Khaleesi!" Jorah shouted, drawing his own sword. "Follow me, and keep moving!"

Daenerys' hand was harshly grabbed by Jorah, and she could feel the floods of sweat that was on his hands, soaking into the hilt of his sword and into the hands of Daenerys. She could see Solaire, barking orders and beckoning Dothraki towards him, and she would have to translate for them whilst Solaire was roaring at them.

As they ran throughout the camp, they began to notice that the Dothraki camp was basically all but destroyed, and that the Black Dragon Kalameet was now turning his leathery tail and flying off to the direction of the Dothraki Sea, heading further East, as if he were heading to go right past Asshai-By-The-Shadow, and then right past the Shadow.

"Follow me! We have to stop the dragon before it causes any damage!" Solaire yelled proudly.

It had been a rather long time since anything had happened that had gotten Daenerys so thoroughly excited as she was at that moment. She had witnessed what most would never see in their lives, a real life dragon!

It seemed that as much as she told herself that it was real, it never seemed to get to grips with her mind, as if what she was seeing was all just a great dream, or that she was a main character in old fable or heroic story.

Daenerys, Jorah and Solaire ran to the horses, mounting the best ones that they had. Daenerys had mounted her Silver, Jorah had mounted a dark brown mare, and Solaire had leaped upon the pale white stallion. That same stallion was one that the Dothraki breakers were having trouble with for days since they had arrived at Qohor, and then in a matter of seconds, Solaire had tamed it and now he was riding it like he had been riding that horse for his entire life.

 **He must be similar to Annalise, I have never seen somebody so tough, so hardy or so stubborn, he must be like her…**

 **Or like that brother of hers…**

 **Brother?**

 **Yes, Annalise has a brother, do you not remember?**

 **Sir William Redding? That was his name, was it not?**

 **Perhaps he is like them? Like Anna and Solaire? Perhaps he will even fight for us? Restore the Targaryen Dynasty to the Iron Throne?**

Soon enough, Daenerys was riding through her burning camp, and she had soon realised that whilst Jorah and Solaire were riding ahead to keep their eyes on Kalameet, the remaining horselords had taken to following their Khaleesi as their new leader, as nobody knew what had happened to the Khal, but from what Daenerys knew, she had seen her husband, her love, run into the fiery forest of flames that was their camp, never to be seen again.

Daenerys could see that Annalise was dragging behind, but not by far. She was riding just away from the remaining Dothraki riders and she was soon closing the gap between Daenerys and the Dothraki. Daenarys looked forward and she could see Solaire riding further and further away from them, his horse kicking up mud and sand as Solaire spurred it on, and it began to gallop faster and faster than ever before.

Daenerys would admit to not knowing a lot about horses, but she could tell that Solaire had done something to the horse. His own horse that he was riding was not faltering at all, and even her own horse was beginning to slow down and falter at times, yet Solaire was riding as fast as he could to keep up Kalameet.

" _Keep riding! Keep riding!"_ Jorah yelled in Dothraki, as he began to spur his own horse into galloping again.

The riders heard his call, and began to ride harder, spurring their horses harder and harder so they could keep up, but even they could not even attempt to keep up with Solaire, who seemed to ride further away.

Kalameet gave out a nasty roar, flapping his wings even more, turning his head so he could see the group of men and women chasing him throughout the grasslands of the Dothraki Sea. He gave a loud screech, before he began to twist slightly in the air, the tip of his right wing dipping slightly into the sand, the sand bursting upwards into the air.

Kalameet soon lowered himself into the air, and the Dothraki riders drew their bows as they rode, and began to let loose some arrows, some of the arrows missing completely, some just barely making contact with the black scales of Kalameet, whilst a small amount sticking into the dragon's flesh.

Kalameet gave another screech, and spewed fire into the sky, lighting the area around the group pursuing him. Kalameet dove through the air once more, speeding past Daenerys and Jorah and Annalise, and they could feel the wind tear past them as the mighty flying beast shot past them, just barely missing them. The group soon turned and began to give chase to Kalameet as they changed direction.

Daenerys could still see Solaire riding as if he were just taking a little stroll outside of his own castle. His pale mount did not seem to stop for breath, as it kept taking massive strides as it managed to keep up with the dragon.

Daenerys could see a large glowing light from Solaire, and she could see a great glowing light form in Solaire's palm, which soon turned into a full lighting bolt.

 **I must be dreaming, this has to be a dream…**

 **Nope, we would know if this was a dream, we would have awoke by now…**

It took a while before Solaire could actually let go of the lightning bolt, as Kalameet seemed to fly further and further away, but he managed to keep spurring his horse so he could keep close to the dragon. Daenerys swore she heard him shout something about 'glorious incandescence' before releasing the lightning, and she could not help but watch in utter amazement and awe as the lightning bolt soared through the air, smacking Kalameet's left wing, causing dragon to falter greatly, his right wing twisting unnaturally as it hit the sand first, and soon the great beast rolled into the sand, crashing down harshly as the sand flew up into the air as the dragon rolled onto the floor, trying to not injure itself as it tried to run away.

" _Give chase! Chase the dragon now!"_ Jorah yelled loudly.

Soon enough, the dragon stopped of it's own accord, before giving a sad-sounding roar and sat down in the sand. It tried to flap both of it's wings, yet only managed to find that one wing just barely worked. It gave another shrill cry, before shaking all of his scales to get rid of the sand between his scales.

" _Do not harm him!"_ Daenerys yelled. _"I wish to speak to it!"_ She yelled again in Dothraki.

The riders rode forth, charging in front of Daenerys, Jorah and Annalise and soon they began to circle around Kalameet, drawing their arakhs and aiming their arrows at the scaled beast. The men had never seen a dragon before in their life, and definitely did not know how to act around such an animal, especially as it could have killed all of them then and there.

"My lady, I don't think keeping this… 'Kalameet' alive is such a good idea..." Jorah said.

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "Why? Because it is a dragon? This is the first dragon seen in hundreds of years, and the first dragon we know that can talk! Killing it would be terrible!"

"This beast has razed Khal Drogo's khalasar to the ground, as it never existed in the first place. Keeping it alive could cause unnecessary harm and death." Jorah responded.

"And if it does not? Still kill it? This beast could be an ally!" 

"Ally? Do you have any clue what an ally even is? Have you ever had an ally that has burned your camp down, and then you have injured him or her, and then turn him or her into an ally?" Jorah kept on asking, barking relentlessly at Daenerys.

"You forget who you talk to. Do not talk to me like a little child, Ser Jorah."

"My apologies, Khaleesi." 

Daenerys dismounted her horse, and Jorah and Annalise followed soon behind her, their horses trailing behind quietly. They made the occasional whinny or neigh as they neared Kalameet. She could just see Solaire dismount his horse just a little step away from the dragon. He neared the dragon and knelt before the creature, and he drew his sword and stuck it firmly into the sand. Daenerys could just slightly hear the large armoured man begin to speak to the dragon.

Kalameet growled. _**"Quhnaarin, we meet again..."**_

"It seems we do, Kalameet. Although last time, it seemed you killed me a few times before I killed you. You did not run away like this time, lost your nerve, lizard?"

" _ **You accuse me, the last of the ancient dragons, of losing my nerve? You are lucky I do not kill you where you stand..."**_

"Do not worry, dear friend," Solaire muttered with a twinge of sarcasm. "It will end like the last time." He stated.

"Solaire! Stay your blade, the Khaleesi wishes to speak!" Jorah yelled.

Daenerys marched in front of Solaire, and soon the Sunlight Warrior sheathed his blade and knelt before Daenerys. He did not say a word as the Khaleesi ordered him to stand to attention, but he held his head high, proud of his accomplishment in defeating Kalameet.

"You are a dragon, are you not?" Daenerys asked.

" _ **Inquisitive, aren't you?"**_ Kalameet huffed, giving a dark chuckle. **_"Yes, but not just any dragon. An ancient dragon from the old times. One that was betrayed by the coward that is Seath the Scaleless, and sadly it seems I have fallen to the same opponent once more..."_**

"Seath the Scaleless?" Daenerys said, confused.

"Seath was a disformed dragon, born without scales that gave him his power, his immortality. I will tell you the rest of the story later, Khaleesi." Solaire answered.

" _ **I can smell the blood of dragons around me, but mostly in front of my eye right now. Are you the Dragon's Daughter?"**_

"I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of The Name, Rightful Queen to the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of The Realm, and yes, I have the blood of dragons in my veins, for I am also the descendent of the great dragonlord, Aegon the First."

" _ **House Targaryen? Stormborn? This is… different..."  
**_

"I could say the same to you, Kalameet. The first impression you make to the Khaleesi is to burn down her camp, and now you decide to be civil and talk with her? How quaint..." Solaire muttered.

" _ **I will speak to the Dragon's Daughter, not some warrior who refuses to use his sword in favour of… damned lightning,"**_ Kalameet hummed. **_"You say you are born of dragons and I am clearly not in my own world anymore, are there any of my kind in this world?"  
_**

"Yes, yet they have not hatched." Daenerys solemnly said, as she had no hope in ever hatching them again.

" _ **Bring them to me..."**_ Kalameet ordered.

Rakharo had returned from his horse, and he held a cloth which contained all three dragon eggs. Rakharo handed them to Daenerys, and in turn she placed them before the black dragon before her.

" _ **By the Fire… Brothers and Sisters… I have never been so… enthused to see my own kind once more."**_

Kalameet gave a mighty roar, screaming loudly and proudly into the sky, with everyone around quikcly covering their ears as they dragon continued to cry. Kalameet moved his head to hover above the eggs, and slowly began to breath fire over the eggs, and soon, Daenerys could hear small and slight cracks coming from the eggs.

Kalameet moved away from the eggs, and kept his blood red eye focused on the three eggs before him, and soon the eggs cracked into tiny little pieces.

 **It cannot be, I must be dreaming…**

 **By the Old Gods and the New…**

Three little dragons emerged slowly from their eggs, and seen the great dragon looming over them. The soon began to chirp and squirm for what would have to be their adoptive parent, and as Kalameet lowered his head, the three little dragons made their way to the ancient dragon, and began to climb over the dragon's ridges and crests, before sitting down on the top of the dragon's head, latching on to the crests, and giving their own versions of a roar, which seemed to be more like a shrill cry.

" _ **Daenerys Targaryen, I am enthused to know that I am no longer the last of my kind. I would wish to serve under you, and to help rear this drakes as your own, to be loyal to you, their mother."**_

Kalameet shook his wings slowly, shaking the sand from the scales, and giving a low roar, with the three little dragons screaming their shrill cries. Daenerys slowly moved forward towards Kalameet, and as soon as the great dragon stopped roaring, he lowered his head, closed his eye and began to give a low hum before crooning. Kalameet then lowered his neck, shaking the scales there. Daenerys stroked the dragon's scales, feeling their weirdness and oddness as she moved to Kalameet's neck.

" _ **Climb..."**_ Kalameet growled.

Daenerys placed her foot upon one of Kalameet's scales, and then pulled herself up, climbing until she reached Kalameet's head, and she was then face to face with her children, her three baby dragons that sat upon Kalameet's ridges.

Daenerys gave a wide smile, before petting the three baby dragons. She then began to think of names for her new children.

 **Balerion… Named after the Black Dread...**

 **Tessarion… Named after the dragon rode by Daeron Targaryen, who died in the Dance of Dragons...**

 **Syrax… Named after the dragon rode by Rhaenyra Targaryen, who died after being outnumbered in the riots of King's Landing…**

 **I have a feeling this shall be the start of something great and beautiful…**

 **X-X-X**

 _I know that some of you will likely reject me for this, and possibly not even read the next fic that I create, but I am going to split the story into books, and as this one is inspiration for 'A Game of Thrones', the next shall be inspired by 'A Clash of Kings' (Season 2)._

 _I am not doing this because I want to, because if I had my way and started a lot earlier than I could have, I would have loved to make this story over 300K words, but even I have trouble righting chapters long enough to get this story to that point._

 _This way, if I ever feel like a get a burst of writing bliss, I can easily right a chapter for the next story, and then post it, finish it and then start with 'A Storm of Swords' (Season 3)._

 _I do apologise, but this way I have time to write about other things, and not just always focus on An Unkindled in Westoros. Believe me, I would love to, but it would be a lot harder, and I don't really like having a lot of sympathy. I feel like that it is my duty to finish this story, and the way I find it easiest to do it, is to split it up into parts._

 _For now, this will be an end to the first part of An Unkindled in Westoros…_

 _~The Real Italian Stallion~_


	22. Chapter 22

_**A Quick Note**_

 _ **It's been a while hasn't it?**_

 _ **Well, since so many people have been asking for it, I've decided to finally begin writing the sequel to An Unkindled in Westoros. As this was my first multi-chapter fic, and the fic that is closest to my heart, it will be the next story that I will be focusing on.**_

 _ **Many of you will think that AUIW was not of decent quality, or at least not as good as it could have been. It's been a while and I'd like to think that my skill at writing has somewhat improved, so look forward to the new chapter of A Legend In Westoros in a few hours!  
**_

 _ **The Real Italian Stallion**_


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